Finding Rubble from Rubies
by Yaji's Girl
Summary: What happens after Goku leaves to train for eight years with Uub? How different will he find life to be?
1. Too Long Ago

**This takes place eight years after Dragon Ball Z - it's my take on what would happen in Goku's absence with Uub. **

Piccolo's heart stopped for a brief second as his green ears twitched, sensitive to his surroundings. He clenched his fist and lets his intertwined legs fall, hovering just feet above the smooth alabaster of Kami's Lookout. Readjusting the turbin perched on his head, he resumed his meditative position and concentrated once more, the wrinkles on his forehead furrowing in thought.

He swore that he had just heard a familiar laugh approaching for the first time in years, but it had to have been a fluke. It was impossible that he was back - he had been expected years ago, but it was impossible all the same. Piccolo's breathing shallowed as he listened once more, receiving the same results. It had to be true. He was back.

Piccolo descended gently until his golden slippers touched ground. Mr. Popo looked curiously at the Namekian until he spotted the grim expression on his face. "What's wrong, Piccolo?" the genie inquired, pushing his hand against the stony ground to help himself out of the flower bed.

With a grimace on his sharp features, Piccolo muttered darkly, "Goku's back."

* * *

Goku stretched his arms out, his blue shirt catching the wind beneath him. He laughed lightly as he twisted his body through the air. He couldn't believe it; he was heading back home.

Almost eight years had passed since he'd even been on this side of the world. Time hadn't changed a thing in his memory, though, which comforted him. Everything seemed just as it had been back then. He couldn't wait to see Goten, Gohan, and Pan to see how much they'd grown; he would even put up with Chi-Chi's nagging to see her again. It had been too long since he'd been home, and he knew his family would be as happy to see him as he was them. There was no doubt about it.

He stared at the shining ocean below him, stretching beyond his line of vision. It was definitely good to get out of that village. Uub had become stronger within that decade of training, as had Goku. It didn't feel as if that much time had passed, though. There were no memories that stood out during that time, as if it had all been wasted. The village was in better condition than he had found it in, but other than a few rescues, Goku wasn't satisfied. After saving the world so many times, there was little that could compare. It felt as if he hadn't done anything to help humanity.

Putting those humbling thoughts aside, he grinned once more, his heart pounding against his chest. He really hoped his family would be happy to see him. His leaving had been abrupt, but it was necessary. It was only once in a lifetime that somebody could train with a partner that contained so much potential. His mind drifted quickly from his family to his friends. He hoped Krillin was keeping up in his training - even after growing hair on his head, he couldn't abandon his passion for fighting. He hoped that Yamcha and Tien and Chiaotzu had kept up with their training as well. After fighting Uub for years, competition was sure to spring up.

Piccolo, he was certain, was training constantly; it was as much in his blood as it was in a Saiyan's. And as for Vegeta and Bulma and their children - they were hopefully the same as always, too stubborn for their own good. He smiled peacefully with thoughts that Vegeta was probably still trying to best him, which he knew would never happen. It was impossible; Vegeta, even with royal blood in him, would always be second to the low-class scum.

Goku drifted along peacefully, anxious to arrive now. He hoped he hadn't missed much, but eight years was a long time...

* * *

After spotting Mount Paozu in the distance, Goku sped up. It looked just as it had, so many years ago... The welcoming domed house greeted him as he landed firmly on the pathway leading up to it. He stood there for a moment, inhaling the scents from so long ago. It tortured him to just stand there, so close to friends and family, but he resisted for a moment longer to compose himself. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated earlier, but he couldn't turn back now. The fearless Goku had stood up to so much - now he could stand up to his family.

He marched with determination towards the house, barely containing his excitement. Once in front of the door, he gulped and cupped his hand to his mouth, yelling, "Chi-Chi, I'm home!" His voice was hoarse from nerves, but he was certain Chi-Chi would recognize him. She had to.

However, nobody answered the door. He glanced around cautiously, taking in the details of his surroundings for the first time. There was a new car in the driveway, a newer model of the one that he had driven so long ago. The hedges were trimmed, and the grass was cut. Nothing seemed particularly out of place to him.

Goku placed his fingers over the doorknob as he focused, trying to locate any power levels from within the house. There were none to detect, though, so he turned the knob and pushed the red door open.

He stared around the dark entryway, noting all of the similarities from years ago. The same old sofa in the living room, the same cushions, the same paint color, the same tables. He approached a chest of drawers that Chi-Chi had bought years ago, picking up one of the iron-wrought picture frames sitting upon it. It contained a portrait of Goten, a young adult by this time. He examined the features that seemed so similar to his own before setting it down, wandering towards the kitchen.

His stomach growled with a thunderous roar as he spotted the refrigerator, placing a hint of a smirk on his face. He approached the fridge with his hand on his stomach, opening it without any doubts. Surely Chi-Chi wouldn't mind. After clearing the fridge of its contents, Goku exited the house. He felt uncertain of where to head next, so he decided that Capsule Corp would be his best bet in finding somebody. Everybody congregated there due to its size and beautiful gardens - there would surely be somebody he knew there.

Before he could even take off, though, he felt a large energy level approach him. Strange... He paused, waiting to see if it was coming for him. Then, in the distance, he could make out the familiar green complexion of a certain Namekian hiding under layers of clothing. Gohan's first friend had arrived... Piccolo.


	2. A Change of Life

**Hope you enjoy the story! Let's just say that Goku finally gets what he deserves for constantly abandoning his family.**

Piccolo had found his target at a great time. It didn't appear as if anybody had seen him yet. Perhaps if Piccolo just killed Goku, nobody would ever have to know that he had returned...

His arm twitched as he had second thoughts, so he simply descended to ground level. It was stupid to believe that he could take Goku out with a single blast, even if he was off-guard. The only time he could kill Goku would be if he let him, but it seemed cruel at this time to ask that favor of him. If Goku would listen to his reasoning, maybe he'd leave...

Piccolo paced forward as Goku yelled, "Piccolo! It's great to see you!" He stopped just out of arm's distance, allowing Goku to examine the look of dismay on his face and ask, "What's wrong, Piccolo? Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Goku..." Piccolo started, trailing off as he wondered how to word his request. After a brief pause, he demanded, "Follow me. I don't want us to be overheard."

Goku laughed and said, "That's okay, Piccolo. I was just about to head to Capsule Corp to see where everybody is. You wanna come?"

"No, listen to me," Piccolo said, stretching his arm out to grip his clawed fingers around Goku's forearm. "There are some things that I need to explain before you see anybody."

"Are... are you okay, Piccolo?" Goku asked uneasily, a hesitant laugh in his voice. He warily looked at his forearm, confused as to what was happening.

Piccolo huffed, "Just come on!" The Namekian then pulled the Saiyan into the air, leading him as quickly away from the site as he could possibly fly.

They reached Kami's Lookout within a few minutes, drawing gasps of awe from Dende, who had been wandering around and talking with Mr. Popo. He quickly abandoned his companion to wave his arms at the two familiar figures, laughing. Mr. Popo hung back, shaking his head; this wasn't going to be a happy reunion from Piccolo's expression.

When they landed, Piccolo pulled Goku to the ground, his hands cupped together as if to focus a blast at the Saiyan. Dende leapt back, as shocked by the scene as Goku was himself. Piccolo was aiming straight at his head, his own foot on the Saiyan's chest. With this threatening pose he asked, "Are you really Goku?"

The surprise from the assault left Goku with only one word, and that was, "Yeah!" His breathing became heavier, causing Piccolo's foot to rise with his opponent's chest. His face was pulled into a grimace by the blinding light generated by Piccolo, so he closed his eyes, an arm pulled before them.

"If you truly are Goku," Piccolo snarled, the ball of light in his hands becoming larger, "then prepare to die." With those words, he released the built-up energy.

With just seconds to think, Goku quickly drew enough energy to take his Ascended Super Saiyan form, his black hair flickering into golden spikes. He took both arms to shield them across his face, taking one of his legs and swinging it horizontally to knock Piccolo down. Then, taking his other leg, he pushed off the ground to give his body leverage, sliding his head just inches away from where the energy blast hit.

He resumed a standing position and, after examining the site of his opponent's blast, said to his fallen Namekian, "That was a weak blast, Piccolo. Haven't been training lately?" He glanced towards Dende and Mr. Popo, who both had their hands over their beating hearts, neither one sure of what exactly happened. But they both jumped once again, startled by the menacing laughter coming from Piccolo.

_Darn. There goes my idea of killing him by surprise. _Piccolo sat up, eyeing the hovering Saiyan. He covered up his disappointment by smirking at Goku, who was revealing his rare fierceness at this time, poised in a fighting stance with his fists curled and arms crossed. Then he said, passing his attempted murder off as a test, "I won't say it's good to know it's really you, Goku, but it certainly is satisfying. It's been lonely without some real competition."

Goku blinked a few times, unsure of what had just happened. He knew that Piccolo had tricked him, though, to make him think that they were enemies again. When Piccolo stretched his hand out to shake, Goku was hesitant to take it. However, it did turn out to be a genuine shake of good sportsmanship.

Upon seeing that they were getting along, Dende offered, "Do you want some food, Goku? Mr. Popo surely has something in the back."

Before Goku could open his mouth, Piccolo said, "No. Don't give him food, or he'll think he's welcome here. You and I both know that he's not."

Dende sighed, nodding to Mr. Popo to listen to Piccolo. Goku watched the three of them cautiously before asking, "What's wrong? How come I'm not welcome anymore?" He powered down immediately, his hair reverting to its normal color.

Piccolo turned away, sighing before saying, "A lot happens in eight years. There are changes that have occurred that I must tell you about - even more than when you were dead for those seven years. It isn't just a matter of people growing up, so you might want to sit down for this."

The two assumed sitting positions, Piccolo's legs crossed as if in meditation and Goku simply lounging back, watching a butterfly drift from one flower to the next. He turned his attention back to Piccolo as the Namekian cleared his throat, beginning, "It started right after you left. Vegeta was infuriated at your sudden departure, and before we knew it, he was back at the Capsule Corporation. He apparently took one of the space ships and, before we could tell, he was gone. Bulma grieved endlessly, to our misfortune. It became worse a few months later when her father fell into ill health and, on his deathbed, informed her that he had actually aided Vegeta in his escape, perhaps due to his senility. Whatever the reason, after Dr. Briefs passed away, Bulma fell into this dazed stupor, continuing life without real meaning.

"Trunks and Bulla even meant nothing to her during her selfish suffering, but, of course, Bulma's sadness became anger. She became reckless and resumed her relationship with Yamcha within weeks of her father's passing. Even though the two don't put on pitiful displays of affection towards one another, each one seems to be part of the mutual agreement of caring for the other through harder times. Trunks, of course, didn't fare well with this and left home immediately afterward; King Kai would know of his location, but we haven't checked on him in months. Bulla is training to take over the Capsule Corp for her grandfather, seeing as Bulma never aspired to such a task of patience.

"As for Vegeta, it's impossible to determine where he is. We attempted contact with him several times through the years through King Kai, though he finally reached a place in the universe so far that King Kai has difficult getting 'reception', as he so dubs it. We do know what his motive was, and it wasn't to essentially abandon his family - it was more to train enough to beat you, Goku."

A brief pause lingered in the air before Goku, absorbing this new information, inquired warily, "So, if all of that's happened to Vegeta's family... how's my family?"

Goku felt Dende's cold hands clench onto his shoulder, the Namekian looking down at him with pitying eyes. Mr. Popo turned away and picked up a watering can, moving towards the gardens. And Piccolo's mouth hung slightly ajar as if to figure out the best way to word the inevitable. Then, as if the words were hesitant to come out, Piccolo answered, "Goku, you don't have a family. It seems hard, but Chi-Chi is a woman on absolutely no income. After your leaving, Gohan decided to move to Orange Star so that Videl could be closer to her father, who is also in degrading health. Goten didn't leave as abruptly as Trunks did, but within a few years he was out of the house and married to a girl named Valese. They live in East City now, with Goten starting his own training center."

"Wow..." Goku muttered, shaking his head in his hands. "I've really been gone for too long..." He looked back up at Piccolo again and asked, his tone strengthening, "So, how's Chi-Chi doing? Is she still living on Mount Paozu? I checked, and it seems to be well-kept; there was a picture of Goten in there, so I know she's still got to live there..."

Piccolo chuckled darkly, averting his eyes from Goku's. "Oh yes, she still lives there," he reassured his friend, but with a bitter tone. "Only on the weekends, however. I told you, she has no income, and thus no way to sustain herself. You left her a poor woman, Goku, so she resorted to something desperate that she hadn't even done when you were dead-"

Dende shook his head, muttering to Piccolo, "Not now, he just got back. Don't tell him yet."

At this side remark, Piccolo stood up abruptly, gaining height over the two of them. Goku's eyes flitted between him and the butterfly, but in this moment, Goku watched for long enough to see Piccolo turn around and sternly warn, "Dende, we must hope he leaves now before anybody sees him. Chi-Chi is a happier woman now than she has been for the past half of her life. I'm sorry to tell you this, Goku, but Chi-Chi remarried."


	3. The Saiyan's Brilliance

**I might add some more to this chapter - I think it rushes a little. Anyways, I plan on some of the older characters having larger parts than they did even in DBZ; I personally think it was lame of the creators to leave Goku's old friends out more and more. Does anybody else find it strange that when Krillin dies in DBZ, Goku becomes Super Saiyan, but when he dies in DBGT, nobody could care less?  
**

Goku's eyes bulged slightly, his expression immediately falling. Remarried? Impossible. Chi-Chi was too old, and more importantly, she was already married. She couldn't abandon him so quickly, could she? With a slight stutter, he asked, "Are you sure, Piccolo? You're not lying, are you?"

Piccolo shut his eyes, shaking his head back and forth as Dende sighed, "I'm afraid it's true, Goku. The wedding was years ago... It was right after Goten dropped out of high school and got married."

Goku closed his eyes, lying down on the ground. He moaned, "That must have killed her! I can't believe Goten did that to her - I guess I'll have to give him a word or two."

At this, Piccolo pointed a forefinger towards the Saiyan and snarled fiercely, "Don't blame it on your son! You're the one who did this to her - if you hadn't run off, Goten wouldn't have run off! She wouldn't have gotten married! And where is this Uub you've been training? I see nothing from all of those years you've been gone. Eight years is too long, Goku. Your family needed you!"

The air was tense after this quick rant, and Piccolo, almost embarrassed by his outburst, allowed his head to sink into his wrappings. If there was one thing he hated, it was the idea of abandoning one's family. All Namekians were his brothers, and he would never leave a lone soldier on the battlefield; he would absorb him first. Piccolo smirked slightly at this idea before noticing the pained expression on Goku's face at the realization of what he had lost. He knew his words were ringing through the mind of the Saiyan, which drew a pitying expression on the face of Dende. Piccolo felt no empathy, however; stupid Goku and his stupid choices. He never realized the consequences until it was far too late. If he could only obliterate the Saiyan, he would save many of his friends from heartbreak.

Goku sat up abruptly, his eyes surveying the scene as if for the first time. There was Dende to his left, looking hesitantly towards the Saiyan, and there was Piccolo to his left, staring at the Saiyan mercilessly. He needed to get out of there, to get out from under the watchful eye of the two green men. He had just lost so much that he had never imagined losing; it felt like a worse blow to his gut than Buu had ever delivered to him. So he sprang upwards, startling Dende into taking a few steps back.

He felt wild at that moment. There was an unknown energy pulsing his body, allowing a strong rhythm to overpower his thoughts. All that he could think of was what he had lost - there were his sons he never got to see grow up. There were his friends who had left, his friends that had gotten hurt. There was Chi-Chi, who would probably never forgive him. There was nothing but what was lost.

The two Namekians watched in awe as Goku hunched over, screaming with fury. He soared through his first form of Super Saiyan, his hair immediately standing up and glowing, his eyes becoming a deep blue. Then, as his Ascended Super Saiyan form passed, his muscles bulked up, the hairs on the nape of his neck standing even higher. Finally, as he reached Super Saiyan Three, the transformation slowed down, allowing Dende and Piccolo to watch step-by-step. His muscle mass increased even more than before. His eyebrows disappeared, his forehead becoming larger and malformed. His hair lengthened, crawling down his arched back. Even as he reached this transformation, he continued screaming, piercing the air for thousands of miles. Kami's Lookout trembled, causing Dende to lunge for something to hold on to and Piccolo to stumble forwards. He continued screaming and screaming, the glow of light temporarily blinding the green men with its brilliance.

* * *

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that's Goku," Bulma remarked calmly from her place at the kitchen countertop, ignoring the slight tremor of her wine glass to look up at Yamcha. She had aged well, her face becoming creased but still retaining the beauty of her youth. Her hair was blue but fading, to her dismay. Yamcha had aged like so, only his hair was a dark grey and cut short, the bags under his eyes large.

Yamcha laughed slightly, replying, "It sure does. Do you think he'd come back after all of these years?"

"I doubt it," Bulma mused, drumming her fingers on the shaking counter. "He wouldn't come back unless he wanted Chi-Chi to kill him, which she would. No, I think he's too busy having fun training to come back."

The serenity of their conversation was broken by a fourteen-year-old Bulla dashing into the kitchen, yelling, "What's going on? Mom, there's an earthquake!" She ran up to her mother, tugging at the sleeve of her dress. "What are you doing? Come on! Let's go to the safe shelter!"

Bulma chuckled, hugging her distressed daughter with one arm as Yamcha explained, "If it's an earthquake, we're fine, Bulla. This building was built to support itself through minor natural disasters, and it doesn't seem as if a huge rift his forming through the town. It's all okay."

"But there's a weird light out there!" Bulla argued, pointing into the next room. "Just look! It's so bright!"

"The sun?" Yamcha suggested, getting another giggle out of Bulma. This didn't please Bulla however, as she dragged the man into the living room. What he saw stunned him. "Bulma, come here!" he called, shielding his eyes from the immense glow. Bulma stood up from the stool and walked into the next room, immediately stunned. The only thing that came out of her mouth was, "That's queer," before fainting.

* * *

Tien stopped speeding against the wind, Chiaotzu following this manner. The two listened, watching a bright light flare up from nowhere. The mime looked up at his friend and asked, "What's happening, Tien?"

The man muttered, "I'm not sure, but it doesn't look good." Neither of them looked any different from decades ago, keeping up with their training. Tien looked down at his partner and said, "Let me check it out." With that remark, he formed a triangle with his forefingers and thumbs, bringing the shape up to his third eye. Closing his other eyes, he focused, zooming into what was happening. With a gasp, he put down his hands and said, "Come on, Chiaotzu. It looks as if Goku's here and angry."

The two sped off again without a word.

* * *

Master Roshi giggled, holding a handkerchief up to his nose to stop the momentary spurt of blood. He was browsing through one of his favorite magazines for the umpteenth time, absorbed not by the text on the page, but rather the pictures. He dropped the handkerchief on the sand next to his pink lawn chair and continued examining each page until a young Marron appeared in front of him.

He readjusted his sunglasses, a familiar gleam shining off of them. He looked the petite blonde over, but before he could say anything suggestive at all, he noticed the concerned expression that had crossed her face. She said, scrunching her face up in thought, "Master, I think there's something wrong. There's a light in the distance, and it's not the sun. It's very strange."

Roshi struggled between choosing the magazine or finding out exactly what was scaring the woman, but after the brief conflict, he settled with the latter of choices. He gingerly set the precious print down on the sand next to the bloody handkerchief. With a cracking back, he assumed a standing position and yelped at the pain. He was getting too old for this. He shuffled over to the other side of the island around the Kame House to see that Marron's claim was valid; sitting on the horizon was a glowing sphere. He dug his cane into the sand and noted, "That's the direction of Kami's Lookout. I wonder if something's wrong."

At these words Krillin walked out of the house, brandishing a large, grey moustache by this time. He proudly walked up to the two and inquired, stroking the facial hair, "What is it that you two are looking at?" His words died away, though, as he furrowed his bushy eyebrows. With a slight gasp he muttered, "That's Goku's energy..."

Roshi nodded grimly, completely forgetting about the magazine half buried in sand. This was a grave matter; if Goku was here, he wouldn't exactly find a welcoming party.

* * *

Goku simply felt awful. He had often worn his emotions openly, but it was still odd for him to be found so angry. The looks of fear on Piccolo and Dende's faces almost chided him into finishing this power up, but he couldn't quit. Now that he had lost half of his life, he hoped this sudden change would at least bring his power to a new level.

It didn't.

Instead, he went on feeling awful. His throat was hoarse from screaming, and the enormous energy he was releasing made his head spin. The last words he remembered were King Kai telling him to stop, though it was too late.

Goku fainted.


	4. Breaking Bonds

**Hrrmm... Goku's kind of passive-aggressive in this one. Not really like him, but this is something he's never dealt with.**

Mr. Popo stared down at the fallen Saiyan in his arms. It had been ten minutes since he had passed out, his hair black again, but it looked as though he was coming to. He gave a last waft with his right hand before Goku finally stirred, twitching his head to the right. Then, as suddenly as he fainted, he sat right back up, conking heads with Mr. Popo.

They both grunted with pain, Mr. Popo releasing Goku. He rubbed his dark forehead and watched the Saiyan look at him with a mixed confused apologetic expression on his face. Then Goku glanced around, staring at the group of people that had congregated about his lifeless body.

Krillin was there with Eighteen, the short man exclaiming with joy when his friend had recovered. He ran forwards to give Goku a hug, but Piccolo grabbed the back of his suit jacket to halt the contact, allowing Goku some recovery time before being bombarded. Tien and Chiaotzu were standing off to the side, conversing in hushed tones with Dende to prevent Goku from listening. There was Yamcha standing a little ways away, battling internally on whether to be happy or upset. If Goku was back, there was a good chance that Vegeta would return. That could certainly be problematic.

Goku gently pushed Mr. Popo away, standing up and gaining height over everybody. He stepped backwards and rubbed his hand over his throat to assuage the hoarseness of it. Everybody ceased their talking to turn to him as he announced, his voice rough, "It's good to see you guys." The air was stagnant with lack of words, though Goku continued after a minute pause in a dead voice, "I'm glad to be back. It really is good to see you all."

Piccolo snorted, releasing the back of Krillin's suit as the old man said, "Well, we're glad to see you, too. It's been a long time, buddy!" And with that, he attempted to pull the unbudgeable Saiyan into a hug, only to pull himself up on his toes to reach Goku. Goku was stiff, though, from the realization of what was happening, so Krillin quickly relinquished him. This wasn't the same Goku he had known since they were just kids; this was somebody else.

Everybody sighed with relief as, after another brief pause, Goku began, "It's good to see you, Krillin." He turned his attention back from the short man back to the rest of the crowd, lifelessly saying, "It's good to see you, Tien; it looks as if you've kept up with your training. And you, too, Chiaotzu." The two simply stood there, dumbfounded. This was a different man than the one who had left them.

"It's good to see you, Yamcha," he started, his voice curdling with anger. He moved forward towards the older man, his fists clenched with rage. "Congratulations on being back with Bulma. Are you on a rampage, aiming for the wives of Saiyans right now? Huh? First Vegeta, next me?" Yamcha backed away, frightened by the words coming from his friend's mouth. He immediately took note in how much younger and larger Goku was than him, the peak of aggressive male nature finally shining through his friendly facade. This definitely was not the same Goku.

As quickly as Goku had jabbed threatening words at Yamcha, he turned back to Tien and Chiaotzu, accusing, "Or maybe it was one of you two who married my wife. Tien? Chiaotzu?" Neither of them took the offer, so he spun towards Krillin and attacked, "Was it you?"

At this notion, however, Eighteen stepped in. She grabbed Goku's wrist firmly, her unaging body as strong as it was when they had first met. With cold words she muttered, "What are you doing, Goku? You're a monster, talking like Vegeta now. Do you want to be treated like a Saiyan?"

Goku exhaled at this, and she released his wrist. He avoided eye contact with her, focusing on where she had let him go. It was silent again until Dende clasped his hands together and asked in as hearty a tone as he could muster at this time, "So, who wants food?"

Piccolo growled, "Dende!" At that, the other Namekian withered, giving up and sitting down on the steps of Kame's Lookout. He sighed, watching Piccolo say to the others, "He can't stay. You do know what this would do to Chi-Chi, don't you? I never meant for the rest of you to find out; I was hoping Goku would exert some common sense and just leave." Then, abandoning the aggressiveness in his tone for the first time that day, he asked Goku, "You don't need a Senzu Bean, do you? You gave us a scare."

Goku shook his head as Yamcha laughed unsteadily, scratching the back of his head, "Yeah, when I came to see what was going on, it looked like you were dead. I though Piccolo had killed you or something." At this notion, Piccolo winced and turned his back to the group. Now that everybody knew, it would be impossible for Chi-Chi not to find out. He knew humans, and he knew that they spoke about everything with a sick pleasure. But perhaps if they had some incentive, they wouldn't speak...

He whipped back around, his white cape catching wind under it. Everybody stared at him as he marched forward, starting, "There isn't much choice in what to do. We can't let Chi-Chi know about this; does everybody want to suffer? So that means that nobody can tell their families." There were groans of protest to this until Piccolo continued, "If somebody apart from this group finds out, I'll... I'll destroy the Dragon Balls."

Everybody stood in awe at the thought, wondering if it was possible or not. Even Goku rotated his head to catch the Namekian's eye, trying to discern the truth. Dende yelped slightly at the idea, scurrying up to Piccolo and reaffirming, "Are you sure that's such a great idea? I worked hard on them, and, well..."

"Shut up," Piccolo demanded, shoving the shorter younger Namekian to the side. "You all won't have to worry about whether it's possible or not if you don't tell. It's simple." There was a low murmur as everybody tried to decide whether he was simply bluffing or not. Piccolo scoffed at them, unimpressed that they hadn't realized that he didn't bluff.

Then he waved his arms violently, attempting to chase everybody off of Kame's Lookout. "Now scram," he ended somewhat lamely, to which Krillin held up his index finger.

"Just give us a second to say good-bye," the short man said, turning to Goku. "We're really gonna miss you, bud. Come visit the Kame House some time; Chi-Chi never visits there, and nobody on that island ever leaves it."

Then, as Krillin began walking away, Goku grabbed his shoulder and said, "Krillin... I'm sorry." His eyes drifted downward in shame for leaving his friends behind, but Krillin pulled him into a one-armed embrace. Goku smiled genuinely for the first time since being on Kame's Lookout. "Bye, Krillin."

"Bye, Goku," his friend replied. His eyes were dry and his expression hopeful, but his heart definitely was moved by this sorrowful exit. He and Goku hadn't been the best of friends in the past decades, mostly due to the lack of competition he could provide. What he couldn't give, Vegeta could. Now that Vegeta was gone, he had hoped that perhaps they could start up their friendship again. With Piccolo's urgency, however, he knew it couldn't happen, and it was better; if Chi-Chi found out Goku had returned, she might do something she had never dreamed of doing.

Krillin slid out of the hug, waving back towards Goku. Next it was Yamcha to say heartfelt words to the Saiyan, also receiving an apology for false accusations. Tien and Chiaotzu followed in this manner, and Eighteen simply nodded. Then the Z fighters soared off, waving until they were beyond sight.

Piccolo approached the heartbroken Goku and sighed, "I'm sorry I put you through this. It's... the best choice I had with these circumstances." The two stood alone at the front of Kame's Lookout for some time, Mr. Popo and Dende disappearing. They had known each other for a long time now, and though Piccolo understood so much about the Saiyan, Goku found Piccolo to be a mystery. Their relationship had been tense at times and almost friendly at others, but everything fell at this point. Now it just seemed to be a business arrangement.

Goku slid on the stoned ground, looking up at the Namekian with the same innocence in his eyes from his childhood. He asked, his voice hoarse again, "What is he like?"

Piccolo nodded, knowing exactly what Goku was talking about. He sat down a foot away from Goku in his meditative position, wondering exactly how to describe the man. He had only ever met him once, and that was some time ago, so he said, "He's old; a few years older than you, I suspect. I don't know his name or address, I just met him one day at the Capsule Corporation when Chi-Chi brought him over years ago. Physically, he's no match for you. He's not a fighter, and he's only human. He's a wealthy man, though, with some power; I'm not sure what he does for a living, but I think it's honest. Bulma apparently knows him pretty well."

Goku sighed. So Chi-Chi had decided that money was an important matter; that must have been why she had left him. He looked at Piccolo and continued, a trace of laughter in his voice, "So I could take him down easily?"

He stretched backwards and laughed as Piccolo chided, "Goku! You'd do more than take him down; you'd kill him. He looks about as old as Master Roshi, but without the strength. He may only be a little older than you, but you have to remember that you're a Saiyan. At your age, you're still incredibly fit."

Goku shook his head, staring at his reflection in the shine of the alabaster tile. He certainly didn't look old. And he had so many stories to tell... Why would Chi-Chi pick another man over him?


	5. Attempt at Death

**Big News: I decided to switch this over to the DBZ section. I've decided that, in all honesty, this has nothing to do with GT compared to some of the other fan fictions. It's just a continuation of Z.**

**And... one of my favorite characters will definitely be appearing _next _chapter. Sorry; this one took more text than I had imagined. And on to the show!  
**

Dende and Mr. Popo were in the gardens towards the opposite end of Kame's Lookout, sitting on a bench in front of a tamed bush with small, white flowers. Dende was slouching, his elbow resting on the bench arm and his head planted into the palm of his hand. He was confused about what to make of this situation; where would Goku go? Even at his age, he needed some sort of supervision. They could send him back to Uub, but that might be too big a favor to ask. With his appetite, Dende was surprised he hadn't starved the whole village.

The Namekian turned to his genie friend who was sitting still, his watering can resting in his lap around his black arms. He asked, lifting his face out of his hand, "What should we do with Goku, Mr. Popo? He acts like a little kid, and if we can't give him to Chi-Chi, we have to find somebody else to take care of him."

Mr. Popo nodded grimly, focusing his gaze on a particularly wild weed that must have sprung up over night. He stood up, setting the watering can down on his seat. Then, after getting on his knees, he began tugging at the enemy. Dende cleared his throat, not enthusiastic about talking to his friends backside, and said, "Come on, Mr. Popo! Do you have any ideas?"

The genie kept pulling as he talked. "We could try the Kame House, like Krillin offered," he suggested, gripping the plant by its roots. When Dende uttered a sound of disapproval, he continued, "Or we could try lodging him with one of his sons..." Another noncommital tone. "He could live up here with us."

Dende winced at this thought. They would run out of food before the night was out. But a brilliant idea struck him. He jumped off of the bench and exclaimed with enthusiasm, "Why don't we just let him train in Other World again? There are tons of people for him to fight, and we wouldn't have to worry about food!"

Mr. Popo turned away from his battle to say with a sorrowful tone, "Do you really want to be the one to kill Goku?"

Dende hushed at this remark, his excitement evaporating on the spot. He huffed, flopping back on to the bench. "Maybe Piccolo would kill him..." Mr. Popo nodded at this, finally pulling the weed out of the flowerbed. Dende's face lit up as he thought about what he had just said, nodding in time with Mr. Popo's bob of the head. "Yeah," he said, his tone lighting up. "Piccolo wouldn't mind killing Goku!"

With those words filling his head, he hopped off the bench again, knocking the watering can over in the process. He ignored it, though, to the dismay of Mr. Popo. As he pulled a handkerchief out of his vest and began mopping the ground up with it, Mr. Popo watched Dende run around the building, his skinny, green legs showing between leaps.

* * *

When Marron spotted Chiaotzu, Tien, and Yamcha along with her parents, she knew something was wrong. She waved her arms above her head in greeting as the touched down on the island. She ran up to her mother, who physically was still her age, and grabbed her hands. Frightened by a vast array of possible situations, she asked, "What happened?"

Eighteen only grimaced, in the midst of deciding whether to tell the truth or not when Yamcha announced, "Goku has indeed returned, but don't tell Chi-Chi." At this comment, he received a swift step on the foot by Krillin, to which he yelled out with pain. He stared at the short man half his height and asked, "What was that for?"

"Don't you remember Piccolo's threat if we told anybody?" Krillin asked, his moustache bristling in a self-important manner. But Yamcha only laughed, walking between Eighteen and Marron and forcing them to release their hands.

"Piccolo claims he can break the Dragon Balls, but I'd like to see him try," Yamcha said, turning to an unamused group. "The Dragon Balls are unbreakable. The only way to destroy them would be by destroying Dende, and I doubt that even Piccolo would be as desperate as to try that."

Krillin still wasn't convinced, though. With his arms crossed in a dubious manner, he argued, "I'm pretty sure that Piccolo would find a way. He's a determined guy when he wants to be." Yamcha could only nod at that statement.

The group hadn't noticed the approach of Master Roshi, so when he spoke in his battered voice, they jumped. "Believe what you want, I agree with Piccolo," he said, leaning against his wooden staff. "Remember when Goku died that first time during the battle against Raditz? Nobody wanted to tell Chi-Chi then. I'm sorry, but that woman scares me half to death! At least she's lost the helmet with the blade and laser, but she's certainly made up for it with her spice!"

Everybody except for Eighteen and Marron laughed at the memory, who simply stood there, waiting for the important topic of Goku to be touched again. Eighteen knew this would be difficult to deal with; Goku seemed to be on the brinks of insanity, and that idea didn't appeal to her. Saiyans, she noted, became crazed with the smallest of things. For Vegeta, it was beating Goku. With Broly, it had been Goku's constant screaming.

Was this separation from Chi-Chi enough to drive even Goku, one of the most passive men on the planet, on the same path as the others?

* * *

Piccolo watched the sleeping Saiyan with a mixture of disgust and envy. Goku was draped across the white steps, his limbs sprawled in different directions and his head cocked at an angle. He found it hard to believe that a man could forget his hardships so easily and lull himself into slumber; if Piccolo could do such a thing, his nights might have been much simpler, escaping the torments of life. Yet Piccolo's mind was always reeling, viewing each situation from various perspectives and never able to keep enough thoughts out of his head to allow himself rest. There was always something to think about.

With his arms crossed, he tapped a green finger against his forearm impatiently. He needed to figure out what to do with the Saiyan and quickly. The Namekian continued staring at Goku until his sensitive ears picked up padded footsteps rapidly approaching. It was Dende.

He continued sitting, motionless, as the other Namekian came closer. He watched as Dende panted deeply, holding his heaving chest, and announced, "I've got an idea of what we can do with him, Piccolo! Let's send him to Other World!"

Piccolo only blinked, immediately losing his focus. Had somebody else really suggested killing Goku? A rare smile appeared on his face as he glanced towards the Saiyan, muttering, "Hush, Dende. I'm not sure how perceptive Saiyan ears are." There was a brief pause as he assumed, "You're expecting me to kill him, aren't you?"

Dende looked abashed, staring at his golden slippers. "Well, I'm the Guardian of Earth. I'm not supposed to be going around and taking people's lives..."

"That's for others to do, isn't it?" Piccolo finished, the smirk dying away as he stood up. He focused on the Saiyan, thinking of the task that lay ahead of him. Even with Goku's guard down, he wasn't sure if he could do this with one blast. There was no way of telling exactly how strong he had become within recent years.

Dende closed his eyes, pondering over exactly where to go with this situation. "Maybe we should wake him up and ask him if he wants to die. I mean, there's a fair chance he does: it's not as if there's much left competition-wise on Earth, if you know what I mean. That's all he really cares about, now, especially now that he can't..."

His words were cut off by grunts of concentration. His eyes flew open to see Piccolo already crouched down, two fingers on his forehead. Short sparks were initiated by the contact, drawing a breath of awe from Dende. So this was the fabled Special Beam Cannon; in all of Dende's years of knowing Piccolo, he had never had the honor of actually seeing it performed. He stumbled backwards, watching the electrical currents generated through the air. Then he glanced at Goku, so peacefully unaware that his death was already being planned out for him. There was no honor in the act, but it was truly for his own good...

After a minute of charging, Piccolo lowered his fingers from his forehead, pointing them straight towards the sleeping Saiyan. Out of his fingertips shot two thin ki beams, one spiraling rapidly around the other. They traveled so quickly, however, that Dende only saw them to be a yellow blur. Within nanoseconds, they hit Goku.

Piccolo gasped with shock as Goku screamed with pain. They didn't appear to have done any damage beside a hole in his blue gi and a burn mark from the impact. Goku sat straight up, rubbing a hand against his abdomen and yelling angrily, "What the heck was that for, Piccolo?"

Piccolo was truly at a loss for words. The blast was supposed to burn a hole right through him; it was his signature attack, the one that had killed him so many years ago. He had been perfecting it, and this was the result? His opponent was so unoccupied by pain that he could actually complain about a small sting? Piccolo stepped back, one word on his lips: "Monster."


	6. A Climb in Pain

**This one's pretty short. For those of you wondering about Chi-Chi, I'll let you know that she's going to come into play in the next couple of chapters.**

Goku pushed his body off the ground, glaring warily at the two Namekians. What had just happened? He placed one hand over the burn mark as he attempted to stand up straight, resulting in him toppling over. The muscles of his abdomen constricted in pain as he fell. It had been a while since somebody had caught him offguard and caused him any damage at all, though the pain was only a dull throb when sitting down.

Piccolo's look of horror became more pleasant as he realized that he actually had done some damage to the Saiyan. That was his strongest attack, however; he had been working on it for decades, and this was all it could do? As soon as he saw Dende turn on his heel to escape the scene, he blocked the Namekian's path. Whatever consequences they faced they would face together.

Goku continued scrutinizing them, holding whatever anger he contained back. He recognized that impact as coming from Piccolo's Special Beam Cannon, but why was it so weak? He continued rubbing at the wound, only minimal blood coating his fingertips after doing so. It had stung, but there was close to no damage done. All Piccolo had managed to do was scrape off a layer of skin and muscle. He stared the Namekian in the eye, who had just prevented his counterpart from escaping the possible wrath of... himself. This realization scared him.

These two green men were actually afraid of him.

Goku tried again to stand up, this time succeeding by wobbling unsteadily on the ground. He held his arms out for balance, and after a few seconds, he secured himself. Then, with a hint of a laugh in his tone, he asked, "You all don't happen to have any Senzu Beans, do you?" They shook their heads, still speechless from the lack of result of the attack. Goku chuckled under his breath, lurching towards them and forcing them to step back. Piccolo would look at him, but Dende was averting his eyes any which way to avoid Goku.

He continued moving forward, his stomach protesting with each step. When he finally had them cornered into a palm tree, he asked in an agreeable tone for somebody who had just had his gut shot at, "Why'd you do it, Piccolo?" At this question, he saw Piccolo fold his arms into the bundles of white robes, releasing Dende from his clawed grip.

"It's simple," he said, gaining confidence again. This was Goku; even if he was stronger, he probably didn't realize exactly how powerful he had become. Goku, who forgave all of his enemies, would certainly not really care about the mark. It might have confused him, but he wouldn't do anything rash. So, with this rush of courage, Piccolo continued in a stark voice, "We figured that if we killed you, you could train in Other World. There really isn't much for you to do here anymore."

Dende smiled slightly, still shirking in fear behind the taller Namekian. Yes, when Piccolo put it that way, it actually did seem fairly nice - almost as if a favor was being done for the Saiyan. He bobbed his head in support, but Goku wasn't thoroughly convinced. The Saiyan squinted an eye and said, "But I don't want to go to Other World yet. I just want to see my family."

Piccolo and Dende fell back in exhaustion; Goku still didn't understand. He couldn't return to his family lest he tear them apart. But Piccolo, too tired to explain the situation to Goku again, said, "If you want to keep living, go visit Korin. He'll give you a Senzu Bean to heal that... scratch." He sneered in distaste at this last word, but it was true. The damage done was so small, Goku didn't really even need a Senzu Bean. Piccolo just wanted to get him out of his sight for five minutes. After thinking for a brief moment, he warned, "And come right back. We still have to figure out what to do with you."

Goku nodded, excited. With this approval from the Namekian, he attempted to spring off the ground, only to fail. He jumped, though he collapsed face-flat on the white tile with his palm against his stomach. Piccolo merely nodded; this might have been his chance to finish Goku off once and for all, as his attack had again proven more effective than thought. Though before he could say anything, Goku chuckled slightly, "Do you mind carrying me down there? It looks like you really did pack a bit of a punch in that attack."

Piccolo grimaced at this request but complied. He swung the Saiyan over his shoulders without wincing at the weight. With fluidity, he flew off the edge of Kame's Lookout and plummeted downwards.

After they had disappeared, Mr. Popo approached Dende tentatively. "Did everything work out?" he asked, hoping his friend's plan hadn't succeeded. He had always liked Goku, and it made him sad that the others were so eager to rid of him. He wouldn't mind feeding the man: he knew that it was simply his appetite that deterred the others. So when Dende confirmed that nothing had worked out, Mr. Popo smiled secretly. The boy deserved a lot of things, but a death like that was not one of them.

* * *

The short flight down to Korin Tower had tempted Piccolo once again. He had, for only a fleeting second, considered dropping Goku to send him to his death. However, he realized that was a horrible idea. First off, it was a horrendous way to die, if Goku didn't manage to catch himself with flight. Secondly, if somebody saw it happen, there would certainly be consequences in store. So Piccolo continued with the descent before reaching his destination.

Piccolo dropped Goku on his back, his eyes circumspect of Korin Tower. There was no white cat or overstuffed man; something was wrong. He stood there for a few seconds, waiting, before he told Goku, "It doesn't look as if anybody's in right now. They'll be back, I'm sure." He gave another glance over the tower before continuing, "If you're not back by nightfall, I'll be sure to pay a visit to pick you up. However, I'm fairly certain they will return." And on that note, he levitated outside of the tower and said, "I'll be up at Kami's Lookout."

As Piccolo ascended at a rapid speed, Goku pushed himself off the ground and into a sitting position. He leaned back against one of the many columns adorning the large space, staring into the blue sky. If there was something Goku couldn't stand, it was waiting, though it didn't seem as if there was any other choice. He sat there and eventually nodded off to sleep.

* * *

"You idiot," Korin said, clutching on to the back of the fat man with his life. He looked downwards, suddenly realizing just how high his home in the skies was. He gulped, digging his claws into Yajirobe's head to release an anguished scream. But Korin ignored the sound of distress and continued berating the man, "I can't believe you crashed your only Dynocap car left. And can't you move faster? My fur doesn't agree with this altitude."

The man and cat were stuck halfway up in the sky. Yajirobe was climbing up Korin Tower after running his car about three-fourths of the way up it. The two had escaped from the tower after a blinding yellow light had shone from Kami's Lookout. The return trip hadn't been so smooth and, because Yajirobe was distracted by Korin's arguing over nothing at all, he hadn't paid much attention to his driving. That was when he rammed the Dynocap car straight into the tower.

Though the man had been putting on more weight as of the late, he was in fairly good shape. He could climb the tower faster than ever before, though it was still quite time-consuming. From this point, it looked to be about eight hours.

Yajirobe sighed in distaste, shaking his black mane of tangled hair before saying between pants, "I'd like to see you climb your own dumb tower." He shut up again as Korin hit him over the head with his staff, not daring to use his claws again in fear that Yajirobe might let go. If it was a long way up, it was a long way down. Korin pancake wasn't an appetizing idea at the moment, so he allowed the large man to steadily pull his way up the tower.


	7. The Fears of Friends

**This one hopefully goes into character a little more. Let's just say that the women seem to be fairly pessimistic at this point; it's a good thing they have men to help them toe the line.  
**

Bulma smiled placidly as she lounged back, lying on an orange sofa with one leg dangling off the side. She didn't have much to do that day, and since Yamcha had left, she had decided to simply spend the free time relaxing. She had one eye on her daughter, who was in an armchair studiously reading a large manual the people at Capsule Corporation had given her, until she dozed off. Before she could fall into a deeper sleep, however, Bulla dropped the book of instructions on the coffee table and turned to her mother, a serious expression crossing her face. Bulma glanced towards her daughter and asked, "What's wrong, honey?"

Bulla continued sitting there, concentrating on her own thoughts. She stared at her hands as she asked, "I've been wondering... You know that Goku you and Yamcha were talking about?" Bulma squinted, confused. Bulla never called Yamcha by his first name unless she was thinking about...

And Bulma knew exactly what was eating at her daughter's mind. Her face fell, saying, "Honey, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but I don't think your father will come back." The thought of Vegeta returning was painful - she wasn't sure how it would alter her life, but she knew the results would be painful. "Even if Goku really is here, he won't come back. He's so far away that it would take many years for his return, so don't worry about it."

The younger of the two pouted in protest, saying, "I want to meet my father, Mom. It's not fair that he left when I was too young to know him. I wish I could remember." There was a silence that fell between the two as Bulma thought back to another person who had not gotten to meet their father, and how different he had been. It was her own son.

She had met her son from the future in the days of the androids' tyranny. He was a young, handsome man, but he was also tortured, too. He had never gotten to meet Vegeta, though he was disappointed in what he saw. He saw an arrogant man, too proud to admit he had a family and too selfish to save them from harm. That Trunks had been a wonderful man; he was moral and only wanted to save others. Her Trunks, however, had been completely different with his father around.

Her Trunks was selfish. He was spoiled. He enjoyed playing tricks on company and was too proud to listen to others. When he had run away from home after her dating Yamcha, it was because he couldn't see that it was best for the family. Bulla, at least, deserved a father that wouldn't run out on his latest whims, eager to fulfill his dreams and ignore those of others. That was exactly as Trunks had been, her Trunks. It was because of the father, she knew. Vegeta had been an awful influence on one child. She didn't want Bulla to end up the same way.

It was perhaps better that Vegeta had left, allowing her son and daughter to grow up without further contamination. The fact didn't diminish her love she had for him years ago; much of the angst had left her, though she knew that she had loved him in a way she could not love Yamcha. There had been something between the two difficult to replicate, impossible to duplicate.

Yamcha walked in to a strange scene. Bulla was sitting down, studying a manual and glancing at him with glassy eyes. Bulma was stretched out across a sofa, a small puddle of tears pooling under her face. He stared at the two women, shocked. What had happened to the happy mood from earlier? Cautiously, he asked, "What's wrong?" He tried doing so in a gentle manner; if he was too blunt, Bulma would become defensive.

Bulma leaned herself forward and shook the tears from her eyes, attempting to smile at Yamcha. She said in as cheery a tone as she could muster, "Nothing at all. So... have you gotten any news?"

"Sure, sure," he said, disoriented by the sudden mood change. He slid into the armchair opposite Bulla and began the narrative, explaining the story. He started with how he had met up with Tien and Chiaotzu on the way, how they had seen Eighteen and Krillin there, how Goku was there, how he had reacted, how Piccolo had threatened them, and how they left and discussed matters at the Kame House. At the end of the story, Bulma was nodding, all thoughts of Vegeta evaporated.

Finally, Bulma asked, "Can Piccolo really destroy all of the Dragon Balls?" The prospect frightened her. Wishes would be even more limited than now. Only Goku could get to Namek quickly, and seeing as he was off-limits, it would be difficult to use their Dragon Balls. Yamcha laughed unsteadily, glad that she wasn't moping anymore. He reassured her, "I'm pretty certain that Piccolo can't destroy Dragon Balls. They're unbreakable."

"It is Piccolo," she warned, staring the gray-haired man straight in the eyes. If that Namekian wouldn't give a second thought to destroying the moon, surely the Dragon Balls were no different. It was a puzzlement almost as puzzling as how Vegeta could have left her, and their kids, so quickly.

And with that thought, she was in tears again.

* * *

Yajirobe grunted, his pudgy nose scrunched up in frustration. This was more tiring than he had remembered. His limbs were beginning to numb with his weight, and his fingers were losing the strength to continue gripping on to the tower's side. He glanced back at the white cat, who was clutching at the man's navy belt and had his face buried in his red scarf. He smirked slightly at the cat's groaning - it looked as if the old cat wasn't as fond of heights as he let others believe he was.

He continued pulling the two of them up as Korin lifted his head out of the man's scarf and asked peevishly, "Exactly how much longer do you think it'll be?" He spared a glance downwards and regretted it. He realized that, because they were so high up, what he had thought was the ground below was really just another cloud. He gulped, his claws digging into Yajirobe's backside once again.

Yajirobe yelped out before stopping to exclaim irritably, "I thought I told you to stop that!" He itched his thin moustache with one hand, still clutching on to the tower with the other. "Anyways, I think we only have two more hours ahead of us."

"Sounds like fun," Korin replied sarcastically, his voice muffled by the scarf. Yajirobe only grunted in agreement as he began pulling the two of them up again.

* * *

Goku awoke at the sound of his own snore. He blinked, unsure of where he was. It was brightly lit, and the afternoon sun caused him to squint briefly. He stretched, still exhausted from the events. He had gotten up that morning at ten in Uub's village, but because of how quickly he had traveled around the globe, he managed to get back home by about eight o'clock that same morning. And he had already taken three naps, if fainting counted as one of them. He felt better now than he had before.

He attempted to stand up, recognizing Korin Tower. But he had forgotten about his stomach, and he collapsed in pain. It felt worse now than it had before. Piccolo had done a fairly good job, even if it was a shallow wound. However, Goku was still unimpressed. He had expected some competition from the Namekian after eight years, and this was all he could give?

Once on the floor again, he noticed a scent he hadn't recognized earlier. It was sweet and savory, and he realized that he hadn't eaten in the past five or six hours he had been asleep. He rubbed his neck as his thoughts wandered. That had been a long nap, and he was glad of it. If anybody deserved it, it was definitely him.

He thought again about the smell, unable to focus properly. He stood up, this time succeeding, and sniffed the air. With his hound's scent, he stepped forward clumsily, too inept to place one foot properly before the other. But the smell was too good... it was worth each occasional trip.

It wasn't until he had moved halfway through the tower that he realized exactly what it was. Behind one of the columns was a rucksack with dozens of... jelly doughnuts. Goku's mouth watered as he continued lurching forward, determined to reach his destination.

* * *

Krillin leaned forward on one of the stools, his elbow on the bar counter and his cheek pressed against his fist as he listened to his wife drone on and on. He loved Eighteen and respected what she had to say, but sometimes she was too afraid. He didn't feel as if Goku returning was a bad thing, necessarily. Eighteen, however, was suspicious of what may happen. "Nothing's going to happen, babe," was all he told her, running his fingers through his thick, grey hair.

The Kame House was almost empty. Marron and Master Roshi were both outside, and though Turtle was close by the doorway, his hearing had worsened as of late. This was the perfect time for the two of them to freely explain their worries, as Tien, Chiaotzu, and Yamcha had all left shortly after coming. Krillin wasn't terribly keen to talk until he could think over the situation a little more, but Eighteen was pressing him. She needed to receive feedback on her thoughts.

She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall and shaking her head. Frustrated, she said, "You don't understand, Krillin. He's a Saiyan. They attract trouble. Please tell me that you haven't forgotten the fact that every other Saiyan has had some evil past."

Krillin only rolled his eyes and said, "This is Goku you're talking about. He was conked in the head as a kid, and all of his evilness vanished." He then shot a smile at his wife and tried consoling her, "It's all okay. Sure, he's killed a few guys, but so has every hero. It's part of being a hero."

She shifted her body towards him, pushing her blonde hair back and staring at him with her blue eyes. "Listen to me, Krillin. I don't care if he has good intentions or not. He's a Saiyan, and all I'm saying is that they shouldn't be completely trusted. Do you remember how he treated all of us up on Kami's Lookout?"

"He treated us like any man would," Krillin defended his friend, now stroking his moustache indifferently. He averted his eyes from his wife's cold stare. Looking at her with that cruel care in her expression rose the hairs on his arms. "He apologized afterward for it. It's all okay."

Eighteen moved closer to her husband, laying one of her palms flat on the table, refusing to submit defeat. She murmured, only for him to hear, "Saiyans get trapped by their own thoughts, Krillin. Don't you remember how Vegeta was, and probably still is, obsessed with beating Goku? You can't forget Broly, Krillin. They were both threats, and it was mainly because of these obsessions."

"Eighteen," he pleaded, placing his hand over her's. "You don't honestly think that Goku will develop an obsession over getting Chi-Chi back, do you?" At the lack of response from his wife, he said, "I know Goku better than you do, and trust me. The only things he's obsessed with are food and fighting."

The android refused to listen to her husband. She curled her fist angrily, gritting her teeth. She knew that something awful would happen. She simply knew it.


	8. Advice from Kai

**I just want to send a quick thank you to all of my reviewers! It really does mean a lot to me, guys. :-) There's one of you in particular I must thank, and I think you know who you are.**

As Goku licked his fingers greedily, having finished off the last of the jelly doughnuts, his stomach growled yet again. There had to be more food in Korin Tower; cats and humans both ate. He stood up again after wiping his fingers on his blue gi and smiled, still tired. Those jelly doughnuts had been good. He hoped that Yajirobe wouldn't mind sharing a little.

After taking a first step, his hand over his wound, he fell over in shock. A nasally voice had boomed from nowhere, knocking him down. "Goku, Goku, testing, one, two, three!"

Goku's jaw dropped as he looked upwards from where he was kneeling. He cried enthusiastically, "King Kai! Oh, it's good to hear you again!"

In a dejected voice, King Kai's voice complained, "You never answered my calls, Goku."

"I'm sorry," the Saiyan replied, putting himself in a sitting position. "I was so busy training that I didn't realize you were trying to talk to me. I've gotten stronger, though, so I hope all of those years away were worth every second!"

"Yes, I see..." the blue Kai's voice trailed, bemused. "I've been talking to Piccolo lately, and it seems as if you've gotten yourself into trouble with your family. Yes, it's not a good situation to land yourself in..."

"Can you help me?" Goku asked eagerly. Surely King Kai could make the mysterious man vanish or something of that ilk. He could fix anything wrong; he was a Kai.

To his misfortune, King Kai said, "Sorry, Goku, but I can't deal with Earth matters. Just follow Piccolo's advice and leave that woman alone! She's a lost cause. Trust me, there's a reason why I don't train them."

Goku sighed, exhaling whatever hope he had left. If King Kai said she was lost, she probably was. Goku closed his eyes, trying to forget his previous anger. He immediately brightened up, however, as King Kai hastily changed the subject by asking, "So, how did your training go?"

And with those few words, Goku was chattering away.

* * *

Yajirobe panted. The edge of the tower was so close, he could feel it within his grasp. Within ten minutes, he was sure he would be there. He hid this information from Korin, however; the longer he could freak the cat out, the more enjoyable this excursion could be.

He rested for a moment, looking at the surrounding view. It was extraordinary; from this height, he could see the tips of mountains rising over layers of clouds. It was what he saw each morning, but climbing up the tower always gave him a greater appreciation of what he saw. Especially when he could look at the swirls in the sky, imagining each cloud to be one of his favorite foods.

He was immediately reminded of his snack waiting for him at the top. There were precious jelly doughnuts waiting up there to be devoured, motivating him to move again. He was determined to get up there and eat.

* * *

On King Kai's green planet, Bubbles was leaping around, performing cartwheels to amuse his cricket friend. But Gregory's face was stuck and unpleasant as he sat on King Kai's shoulder. He knew something was wrong by the way that King Kai had stood in one place, the same dubious expression on his face as he listened to Goku's blabbering. Gregory shook his head knowingly, afraid of what news was to come. King Kai had been standing for a straight hour and a half, simply listening to the Saiyan. Gregory knew this was bad, because King Kai wouldn't even listen to his own intelligent thoughts for half that period of time.

Gregory crossed his arms and pouted, waiting for King Kai to finish. He needed to know exactly what was happening; it was rare when King Kai was involved in anything exciting. As far as Gregory knew, anything involving Goku was exciting. He had saved Earth from disaster several times, and any hero's life was full of excitement. Perhaps he had just fought a difficult enemy or escaped an exhilarating battle. Maybe he just wanted a few jokes, seeing as that was all King Kai told as of the late. And even Gregory was getting fairly tired of his master's jokes.

As patiently as the cricket could, he sat and waited. He was curious to find out exactly what had happened. It had to be a lot more exciting than watching a monkey perform tricks on a grassy lawn. His life had fallen into a rut, and he wanted to gain more. Yes, he definitely wanted to know what was happening on Earth with Goku. It had to have been not only exciting, but important, too. Perhaps Frieza or Cell had returned? Or Kid Buu had been revived? The more possibilities Gregory conjured, the more he squirmed around.

He finally snapped, whispering to King Kai, who had been nodding off a little, "What's happening? Anything exciting?"

King Kai only swatted his hand through the air, apologizing, "Sorry, Goku. What did you just say? I'm getting kind of distracted." He leered at the cricket through his glasses as he continued listening to Goku's speech.

Gregory moaned, hovering in front of the Kai's face and exclaiming, "Excuse me, master, but I just want to know what's going on!" He poked his thumb into his puffed up chest, his high-pitched voice as aggressive as he could make it. King Kai simply pushed him aside and turned around, angering the cricket. What was so important and exciting and secret that he couldn't spare two seconds to explain the situation to his own pupil? Unwilling to be pushed so easily, Gregory daringly sped around King Kai's blue head again and demanded, "Tell me!"

Angrily, King Kai shouted, "Do you mind? I'm trying to talk to Goku here!" His face was red from frustration; he was already annoyed from concentrating on what Goku was saying for so long, and he didn't want to face the cricket's endless prods and pokes.

"If this is so important," Gregory taunted, his tiny green hands on his hips, "perhaps I should get Supreme Kai involved." The threat achieved the desired effect, as King Kai's face immediately fell.

"No!" he exclaimed, his blue face flushed. He ignored Goku as he continued, "Don't you dare get the Supreme Kai involved; I hate having to deal with him." There was a pause as Goku asked something, to which King Kai answered, "He's pompous and thinks he's better than me. Ha! Which one of us trained you? That's right! Not him!"

Gregory examined his master carefully, noticing the sweat forming on his forehead. There was definitely something other than personal conflicts that was scaring King Kai so badly. There had to have been another reason why King Kai didn't want his boss to deal with this situation.

He sat back down on King Kai's shoulder, his legs crossed in a thoughtful state. There was something that King Kai was afraid of...

* * *

Yajirobe finally pulled himself over the ledge of the tower, panting heavily. Korin had fallen asleep, his claws stuck into his red scarf to keep him latched on to the man. Yajirobe couldn't believe what he was seeing: his rucksack had been plundered! It was lying wide open, the brown flap lying pitifully against the ground, revealing its lack of contents.

As soon as he landed quietly on the tile, he reached for his katana, pulling it out slowly. Whoever stole his jelly doughnuts was sure to pay a price. That had been his reward for making the tiresome journey back up to the top of the tower. He needed the energy desperately, and he wouldn't easily forgive the thief.

His heart jumped as he heard somebody talking in a voice louder than any expert in kidnapping snack foods would use. It sounded very familiar, yet it was not recognizable. He was a man, though his voice was playful like a child's. There was only one person he could think of that could be so happy all the time.

With courage brazening his actions, he jumped out from behind a column, his katana held expertly in a threatening pose. The sudden leap awakened the slumbering cat who yelped with surprise. Yajirobe uttered a small sound of disbelief as he found himself looking straight into the eyes of a man nearly twice his height and wearing a blue gi. The ever-observant Yajirobe recognized him not by these physical traits, but by the dumb haircut. Yes, this was definitely Goku; even the pained look on his face couldn't destroy that laughter in those eyes.


	9. The Cat and Glutton

**Okay, Chi-Chi fans! She'll make her appearance not now, but next time on DRAGON BALL Z!**

Goku smiled as soon as he recognized Yajirobe. The man had grown more rotund, though his moustache was kept as thin as it had ever been. He still wore the same shabby orange robes with the same belt and same scarf which, as Goku noted with amusement, Trunks had used several times as a diaper. He waved at the man and saw Korin appear from behind his back. The two of them continued staring at him, oblivious to his gestures of friendliness.

Yajirobe took a step backwards as Goku suddenly arched his back after moving closer to them, grabbing at his side and kneeling to the ground. His face had seized up with pain, squinting his eyes and murmuring something to himself. The fat man immediately turned his head over his shoulder and asked Korin, "What do you think's wrong with him?"

Korin placed his paw to his chin in thought and mused, looking over at the tall man, "Well, I'd say something's hurting him pretty bad. Get him a Senzu Bean."

Yajirobe pulled a hand-sized burlap bag from his front pocket and poured out of the smaller beans. He inched closer to Goku, who was moaning in agony, and dropped the bean on the ground next to the Saiyan. Then he quickly shuffled away, hiding behind one of the columns and looking from afar.

Korin beat his head with his staff, immediately jumping off his back. "That's some way to make a person feel at home," he muttered, making his way towards the fallen man. The wooden staff clanked as he took each step, finally resting right before the man. Korin scooped the Senzu Bean up in his free paw and pressed it into Goku's hands, saying, "Take this. It looks like you need it."

"Thanks," Goku mumbled, his voice faltering as he placed the Senzu Bean in his mouth. Something strange had happened; a force of air had knocked him down, taking his breath away. His injury wasn't the cause of his tumble, but he wasn't sure what exactly was. Before he could ponder over it anymore, the Senzu Bean's effects had taken place. Goku's wound healed up, leaving no signs of damage.

He rubbed the site of previous injury before turning towards Korin and repeating in a stronger voice, "Thanks." He pushed himself off the ground, eyeing Yajirobe's katana. It relieved him to see how little these two characters had changed, and they certainly were characters. Korin seemed as authoritive as ever, a sly grin on his face as he observed the Saiyan's actions, and Yajirobe was just as defensively cowardly. Yes, these were the same two he had known since childhood.

Korin held his arms open and asked, "What is it you want, kid? I'll admit that it's good to see you; we haven't seen you in a while, and I was beginning to think you didn't like us." He leaned against the staff as Goku continually looked around, seeing the tower for the first time in years with a clear head. It certainly was the same, but something bothered him. What had knocked him down?

He had completely forgotten about King Kai, who asked anxiously, "Goku? Are you all right?" His voice had gone up an octave; if something had happened to Goku, he knew he'd be in deep trouble. From what he had heard, there were quite a few people who had him on their hit lists already. If something happened to Goku and he died, he would surely have Supreme Kai on his tail. And that spoiled good-for-nothing was the last Kai he wanted to deal with; even East Kai wasn't as nosy.

To his relief, Goku replied, "I'm fine, King Kai. In fact, I'm doing great! I'll chat with you later." And with those words, and to the dismay of King Kai, Goku ended the telepathic communication and turned back to his two friends. In Other World, King Kai was furious. Goku had, for some reason, decided that he was in charge of their conversation. He quickly attuned his antennae in an attempt to reach contact with the man, but each signal was blocked.

Gregory watched his master, unamused. King Kai hadn't realized that Goku had, as with all of his teachers, surpassed him long ago. He recognized that King Kai couldn't understand that anybody was better than him at anything. He had to hand it to the blue Kai, though; nobody could surpass him in the field of wit and corny jokes.

* * *

Yajirobe was seated at a flimsy card table, his katana safely put away after realizing that Goku wasn't a complete nut. He noted the Saiyan's every move as he made his way from the middle of the tower over to a chair, collapsing in it from fatigue after that deadly climb. The Saiyan was courteous with Korin's every word, but Yajirobe wouldn't be so stupid as to believe the buffoon's story about how he had returned to almost face death at his friends' hands. Since Goku had left so long ago, how could they be sure his intentions were still good?

He crossed his arms stubbornly, not saying a word to the Saiyan. He scooted his chair back an inch at the man's presence, not willing to admit his fear. He felt a strong power emanating from Goku that couldn't be trusted. But Yajirobe lacked both the strength and will to object to Goku's being there, so he simply waited as Korin talked up a storm.

"Piccolo really blasted you?" the white cat exclaimed incredulously, offering his usual seat to the man. Goku accepted the offer and nodded as Korin explained, "We ran away because we saw a bright light come from nowhere up on Kami's Lookout. The last time that happened was when Buu was there and killed every soul in sight, so we decided that we wouldn't stick around." He blushed sheepishly at this point. "I mean, we would have come up to check on everybody, but we really figured that we wouldn't be able to do much. There's only so much an eight hundred-year-old cat and a lazy oaf can do!"

Yajirobe sneered at Korin's eruption of laughter as Goku turned curiously towards him. The fat man quickly looked away as Goku asked, "What have you been up to, Yajirobe?"

He rolled his eyes, replying indifferently, "Nothing much. Been training some in the mountains. Mostly meditating in my free time."

"Mostly eating, if you ask me," Korin snickered, receiving a glare from Yajirobe. Goku grinned, happy to finally feel accepted since his arrival. Nobody else had treated him in such a carefree manner; the rest were either attempting to kill him or stepping back, afraid to be near him. He leaned back in the chair, contented for the first time since he saw his little home on Mount Paozu.

"So, to cut to the chase; what exactly are you doing back, Goku?" Korin inquired, pulling himself on to the table. They had long since rid of all extra chairs due to a lack of visitors, but Korin wasn't afraid to sit down on the table. He was overly enthused to actually have some form of company other than the all-eating Yajirobe.

Goku's mood fell slightly as he was reminded of why he had left Uub. With a sigh he admitted, "I came back to see my family." There was a small silence at these words, Korin not knowing exactly what to say. Goku was hit by an idea, then, and his voice became warmer. "Hey, you all wouldn't be able to tell me the way to Chi-Chi's new home, would you?"

Korin laughed, "Hey, when do you think the last time I left this place was?" Goku gave him a confused stare that forced him to add, "Besides this morning."

"Oh," Goku murmured, his sudden feeling of brilliance fading. If he could visit Chi-Chi, then he could live without her. He just needed to visit her one more time...

Fortunately, Yajirobe chose this moment to speak up. "Yeah, I've seen her place before at a birthday party or something like that," he said, leaning back in his chair as Goku eagerly leaned forward. "It's a pretty big place, just outside of North City. It kind of close to Dr. Gero's lab that got blown up, if I remember correctly."

"His lab?" Goku asked, puzzled.

"You doof, he wasn't around for Dr. Gero's secret lab," Korin reminded his companion. "He was sick with that disease, if you don't remember."

Yajirobe's face exploded into a deep scarlet as he yelled, "Sorry I don't remember every single, little detail! I wasn't there either, but I still know where it is!"

"The lab was in a mountain," Korin said calmly, knocking his staff into Yajirobe's face. "So, basically, just go to the south side of the city. It's not actually in the mountains, though. You understand?"

"Yeah!" Goku exclaimed enthusiastically, standing up abruptly. "Thanks, guys!" With those few words, he flew away to leave a very stunned pair behind. Yajirobe was still recovering from the conk on the head, his large head buried in his arms, but Korin watched the retreating figure. Goku really did aim to amaze, sometimes.

Korin leapt off the table and asked, "Doesn't he need the address? Or at least some description of the place?"

Yajirobe only replied, "Whatever. He'll find his way." Then, beneath his voice, he muttered, "Doughnut thief."

* * *

Mr. Popo noticed a sudden movement come from beneath him. He hustled to the edge of Kami's Lookout and noticed a blur in the distance, moving farther away with each second. He bit his bottom lip, knowing that Goku had escaped. Piccolo was relaxing, his legs crossed in their usual state as he hovered a few feet above the ground, and Dende was sweeping the tiled floor to keep himself busy. He considered telling them, but a second thought told him to stay out of this.

He returned to the two Namekians, the younger one asking curiously, "What were you looking at?"

Mr. Popo simply smiled, his large, red lips curving slightly. "Just the clouds," he lied, innocently lifting his watering can into his arms. It was with a large sigh and dreamy look that he continued, "They are always so beautiful at this time of day."

He allowed some water to trickle on to a bed of bright flowers as Dende shook his head in confusion. If he hadn't know the genie for so long, he would have thought he had some trick up his sleeve.


	10. Jokes Before Directions

**Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I'll update in a few days, but I've got some cooking to crack down on!**

Goku knew that he had gotten himself into an unforeseen conflict as soon as he realized that he didn't know where North City was. He had taken off quickly in excitement with a lousy word of thanks to his friends, already rehearsing an apology to Chi-Chi within a few minutes of flying. But he realized that, after flying in the direction he believed to be north for nearly half an hour, he was lost.

He finally decided that he needed King Kai's help.

Allowing the signal to resume between Other World and himself, he called out, "Hello! King Kai, I could really use your help!" There was silence before he continued, "King Kai? Come on, I need you!"

There was no reply but a rush of wind, over which a faint voice muttered snarkily, "Oh, so now you need my help? I don't know if I want to help you, Goku, after you hung up on me."

"Sorry, King Kai!" Goku apologized, unwilling to pick a fight with his old mentor. "I just... I just..." With no real explanation to give for having ignored his master earlier that day, he asked, "Will you tell me how to get to North City?"

King Kai was taken aback by this request. "North City, eh?" he repeated warily, wondering what business the Saiyan had there. "I'm not sure if I can tell you, Goku."

"It's for a good cause!" Goku tried telling the Kai, but that answer wasn't deemed acceptable by his standards.

"Sorry, Goku, I have to make sure you're not getting into trouble. Supreme Kai would have my head on a platter if something happened to you."

"King Kai!" Goku pleaded, his voice urgent. This was important, but he didn't want the Kai to know of his true intentions. He might resort to telling Piccolo of his plans, and that was the last person he needed to ruin his plans of visiting Chi-Chi. "I need to talk to somebody there. Please help me."

King Kai mused over the situation for a brief moment before saying, "Well, I suppose I can tell you... if you tell me what you think of my newest joke." Goku jumped at the offer, surprised by his old master's generosity. He waited, knowing exactly how to react to the joke. If he laughed, he was sure that King Kai would tell him the exact directions. He hovered at a standstill in the air as the Kai continued with brevity, "So a horse walks into a bar, and the bar tender says, 'Why the long face?'"

Goku hovered there, not comprehending the joke. Why would a horse walk into a bar? Why would a bar tender talk to him? But he then remembered his plan and doubled over, bellowing with laughter. Despite the late reaction, King Kai was pleased as he asked, "So you liked my joke?" Goku simply nodded, forgetting that the Kai couldn't see him. But so pleased was his old mentor that he said, "Calm down, Goku. I know I'm funny, but even I'm not that funny!" Goku abruptly stopped, though the blue Kai was suspicious of nothing, glad that somebody other than the grouchy cricket was eager to listen. "I'll tell you what to do now, since you found my joke to be so funny."

And so Goku's mind showed, for an instant, its ability to scheme.

* * *

Chi-Chi scrubbed furiously at the pan. She was in the midst of a large galley kitchen, stationed in front of a sink. She scoffed at the dishwasher and didn't trust any of the maids with her fine china. No, there was only one way for her favorite bowls to be washed, and that was at her own hand.

It was truly her dream kitchen: the walls were a warm yellow, the cabinets made of a dark oak with simple trim adorning them. Dozens of choices had been thrown at her for the countertop, including expensive stone of unimaginable prices, but she eventually stuck with the butcher block. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had chosen elements in this kitchen to remind her of home back on Mount Paozu. This one, however, was far larger to accommodate her cooking habits.

Her favorite aspect of the kitchen was not the wooden stove or oversized refrigerator; instead, it was the large window above the sink that opened up into the wilderness. Because it was located at the south end of the house, it displayed a spectacular view of tall mountains looming in the distance. The clouds lining the mountains at evening inspired her to cook greater dishes than she had ever tried, now that she could afford all of the necessary materials. Life had been given to her after surviving through poverty for so long.

The window was open, allowing a cool breeze to invade the house. This air conditioning that she had recently learned about was a waste of money when nature provided its own cold air. She could never understand how Bulma afforded to pay for the whole Capsule Corporation building to be insulated in such a way; if she owned a company of that size, she would simply tell all employees to open up their windows and allow the world to provide their comforts. When Bulma visited during the summer, she often complained about the heat. In Chi-Chi's mind, city life had made a weak woman of a strong soul. Chi-Chi had never gotten used to odd conveniences that most women her age enjoyed, and she didn't want to. She truly enjoyed living life at its best, and that was at its simplest.

As the sun began setting in the west, one of the maids entered through a swinging door. She was one of Chi-Chi's favorites because of the cheery tone she always used, a gentle expression on her face. She said sweetly, "Mr. Kahn would like to say good-night to you before heading up to bed."

Chi-Chi smiled in return and turned away from the sink as another one of the maids aided an old man into the kitchen, holding the door open for him. The man was old and dressed in a suit of grey tweed. He had a slightly hunched back, relying on his elaborately-carved wooden cane to guide him. Straightened up, he came to be about Chi-Chi's height, but the bend in his back put him a half foot shorter. He had fine, white hair on his head, and his cheeks were delicate, yet still firm. He looked up at his wife and told her in a surprisingly strong voice, "Good-night, darling. The doctor told me I have to get to bed early for my medication to work."

She glanced at the clock, revealing that it was barely seven o'clock. She sighed, looked down at her husband and saying, "I'll be up there in an hour or so. I'm exhausted after cleaning so many dishes. There are only a few more, and then I'll be there." With those final words, she kissed him tenderly on the forehead and sent him up the stairs with one of the maids.

She resumed washing the dishes. The kitchen was still a mess because they had served an elaborate meal filled with several courses of foods she couldn't pronounce the names of, which she found in odd cookbooks with recipes from around the world. She enjoyed taking the cleaning into her own hands and stretched happily, her back groaning from the work ahead of her. If she had a specialty she could take away from her past life, it was cleaning up after large meals.

* * *

Using King Kai's directions, Goku reached North City easily and within a few hours after slowing down his speed to give himself time to think of what to say. According to the Kai, he had been traveling West before, but that was easily corrected. He allowed himself to travel in a roundabout way, creating more time between then and the confrontation.

Goku wasn't surprised by what he saw; he believed that all cities looked the same. All of them were made of metal and were relatively unclean. They each had tens of thousands of cars clogging the streets, making it quite difficult for any ordinary pedestrian to get around. But thanks to his ability of flight, it made navigation around towns far easier.

Without having to soar through the city, he found the series of mountains to the south. He understood why Chi-Chi would want to live in a place with such beautiful topography, restoring a bit of his faith in her. As he hovered from mountain to mountain, he realized that it was a convenient place to live; it was a balance between urban and rural lives. He huffed, upset now that he had constantly set his foot down whenever the idea of city life was approached. If he had given in to that one request, perhaps she wouldn't have run off with some other man.

Remembering Yajirobe's comment, he picked out the largest house in this more suburban setting and aimed his path towards it. The fearless Goku only had the courage to approach one of the houses, so he hoped the first one was the right one.


	11. Fired Up Spirits

**Confession to the reviewer time! I'll admit, I completely forgot about IT. Ha ha, whoops! But I promise I'll bring up a reasonable explanation for not using it; while doing so, I've presented you all with a chapter on somebody you all have been asking about!**

**Oh, and about Chi-Chi's husband being so old... Goku can't be the only one punished, so would it really be fair for her to have a young, good-looking man with lots of money?  
**

Trunks shivered by the fire, his purple hair thawing out as the red from the cold died away on his cheeks. He tugged the blanket closer to himself after having it wrapped around his shoulders. Never before had he felt so cold; he had never seen a land covered by so many layers of ice.

He kicked off his wet boots, allowing his holed socks to dry near the fireplace's mouth. He placed his bare hands before the fire's crackling glow, feeling relief from the cold climate as he realized that this was the first house he had been in for several months.

This whole crazy trip was all based on a pulse he had felt through the ground, and a weak one at that. He had been searching for Goku for nearly half a year now, but when he finally reached the village that day, Uub had told him that his father's friend had simply left. When he asked where, Uub could only shrug; he didn't know what Capsule Corp was. At that comment, Trunks had laughed and said his thanks before, suddenly, the ground shook for a brief second. He and Uub had exchanged looks, knowing exactly who it was.

Hurriedly, Trunks decided to take a trip all the way back around the globe to visit Goku. He knew something was wrong. Being the intelligent man he was, he decided that, like the Capsule Corporation fighter planes they had been designing, he would go with the winds. Only he hadn't calculated one problem in his equation, and that was the fact that the winds traveled dangerously close to the Arctic Circle.

Yes, he would have frozen to death if the nice woman with long, red hair hadn't found him. Due to hunger, he couldn't find the energy to continue and landed in the snow, regretting that mistake later. He had already felt his legs numb as the woman hauled him over her shoulder and continued trudging through the snow. She was a large woman, though Trunks knew that, by her surprising strength, a lot of it was muscle that came naturally in such harsh conditions.

When they finally reached a small village, she entered one of the pink domed huts and set him down right in front of a blazing fire. She had gone into the kitchen to make hot chocolate, and when she returned with two mugs, Trunks got a better look at her. She was far older than he had expected, with wrinkles lining her face. Against the white snow, her hair had looked much redder, though he realized now that it had faded with age. Her bare hands were callused and healthy looking, though the veins lining the back of them only further proved her age. She assumed a seat behind him, placing the mugs on the coffee table and barking with laughter, "When you're not shaking so much, I'll give you some hot chocolate!"

Trunks blushed slightly and turned around slightly to thank her, but before he could utter a word, she said, "It's no problem. I know you're cold, so stop wasting your energy looking over here! Focus on your own self so you don't die!"

He nodded, not believing that he was getting chastised for the first time in years. He rubbed the palms of his hands together to generate warmth, finally containing enough energy to create a small, iridescent ball in his hands. The woman stared at it, amazed, and her face softened. She hadn't seen something as amazing as that since that boy had traveled through this village, so many years ago.

She stood up and stared over his shoulder at the ball of light in his hands that produced far more heat than the fire. It reminded her of the boy; he had been her height with spiky, black hair, and there was that monkey's tail he had... That was one detail she couldn't forget. She had rescued him in the same manner that she had rescued this man, except she had been a young girl then. And the ball of light reminded her of the bright, yellow light that boy would create when shouting the unforgettable chant, "Kamehameha!" She remembered so much about the boy, but his name escaped her.

Trunks noticed her look of awe and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to thaw out. I'm not going to do anything to your house." This man was polite. He had a respect for his elders that youth so often was missing. Yes, the kids in this village were kind, but when she visited the city, she would often find ruffians and hooligans. The other boy had been kind, too. He had been odder than this one; at least this man didn't have a tail, though the purple hair did make up for it. They both looked similar, facially; she wasn't sure where the similarities were, but she knew there were some. This man was tall and lean, however, and the boy she had known was short and chubby. He had been the savior of their village by rescuing their chief from the hands of the Red Ribbon Army.

The boy's name struck her as she remembered that day Muscle Tower had fallen: the boy was named Goku.

Trunks darted his eyes uncomfortably towards the woman and asked, "Excuse me, but do you need something?" She had been staring at him quite openly, no qualms of him noticing. Though he was glad that she had rescued him from the cold, he didn't believe it automatically gave her a right to keep looking at him, which he thought to be quite rude. He turned himself away from her, tucking the ball of light underneath the blanket to keep the heat from being released in the free air. Yet, no matter how many hints he gave about wanting to be left alone, she continued staring, her mouth agape at her realization.

Finally, she blinked and asked, "Do you know a boy named Goku?"

Trunks' eyes narrowed slightly, hiding his shock at her question. "How do you know Goku?" he asked, assuming that they were talking about the same man. It wasn't a very popular name, and it couldn't just be coincidence that they both knew people named Goku. He knew it was the same person.

"My name's Suno," she finally revealed, squatting down next to the fire and watching the glow of Trunks' sphere of light under his blanket. "Years and years ago, I met a boy named Goku when we were young kids. He reminds me of you, for some reason."

Trunks nodded, letting his guard fall. "I did know a man named Goku. I haven't seen him in years, however. I was actually trying to find him before I crashlanded."

"Crashlanded?" she asked curiously, her face lighting up as she leaned closer to the man. "You were flying? On a Nimbus?"

He was pleasantly surprised by her knowledge and, letting the energy ball die out, said, "No, I just... fly." And with those words, a flood of questions broke through. Trunks spent the majority of the afternoon explaining his past life, starting with the World Martial Arts Tournament from eighteen years ago. He spat with disgust. Those had been eighteen years of doing nothing, he realized.

He continued on without any explanation of Saiyans, as that would take another story session to even begin, and talked about how, after Kid Buu's defeat, life had been quiet. He went into how his mother had betrayed him by getting remarried after his nineteenth birthday, and how he hadn't returned home since. Now he was a twenty-six year-old man with no home to return to.

He had spent the past few years training and searching for Dragon Balls. Trunks was shocked once more as Suno's eyes lit up at mention of these mystical objects. It was then her turn to talk of how Goku had been on a hunt for one of these, the four-star, so long ago. Trunks' eyes glazed over as he imagined how selfless Goku had been before; if Goku had known how many lives he had torn apart, he doubted the Saiyan would have run off. Goku, however, had always seemed oblivious to the world around him.

There was a pause as Trunks put his empty mug down after Suno had finally given him his hot chocolate. The old woman had been good to talk to; she was an excellent listener, and he felt great after getting the majority of his story off of his chest. There were a few parts he was reluctant to share.

King Kai had, one day, awoken him from a nap. It was the first time he had heard from the Kai in years, and the only thing he told him was, "Get off of your rear end and actually do something with life! Train!" As quickly as the voice had appeared, it disappeared. Trunks had to admit that he had become lazier with passing years; all he did was lay on pastures, occasionally stealing crops from farmers to sustain this form of life. He rarely trained, simply laying back and dreaming of a life with his father around. He had certainly missed having the brute around, as hard as he had treated the boy through his childhood. But those few words had sparked something inside the Saiyan; he began searching for the Dragon Balls, ignoring the Kai's advice to continue his fighting regimen.

Trunks wanted so much out of the Dragon Balls; he had originally just wanted his father back. But a darkness built up in him after a few years of looking, hopeless without his mother's Dragon Radar. He had considered darting back to Capsule Corporation and stealing it, though he didn't dare risk being sighted. There was no rush, as he had no life to look forward to. So he continued wandering around the world, never finding a single one of these objects. That was when his wishes changed; instead of simply wanting his father back, he began wishing Yamcha dead. It was illogical, as his mother hadn't abandoned Vegeta for Yamcha, but rather Vegeta had abandoned her for Goku. If he had thought straight, he would have instead wanted to wish Goku dead, though he knew that would have had no effect. If Goku wanted to live, he lived. It was as simple as that.

His lust for Yamcha's death quickly passed as he gave up his search. Instead, he devoted himself to studying martial arts at a dojo, quickly being forced to learn manners that he had never been taught. He survived for nearly a year, his attitude towards life radically changing. For once in his life, he realized that he could go back home and live life to its fullest. However, before doing so, he dedicated himself to finding the one responsible for this whole mess.

He left the dojo after surpassing the master not by his raw strength, but from a mental prowess forced upon him. He learned all of the techniques, and though he had always been able to defeat his master, he finally perfected his style by forcing it to be a competition with himself, not with others. His objective was to find Goku after his departure.

He never found him. He had difficulty locating Uub's village because he had forgotten the feel of ki, and when he finally found the young man, he learned that Goku had left only that morning. And then Trunks had ended up here, in Jingle Village. He was trying to take a short-cut, and it had failed.

Trunks explained that he was looking for Goku, but he didn't want to go back home. Suno nodded, and once he was finished, she fed him words of encouragement. She knew that he needed to return now before it became any harder to. By the time darkness had swallowed the village, he had agreed to go back. In the morning, she had told him, though he fought her. Taking warm clothes that had been her father's, he marched out the door and thanked her.

Suno watched, amazed, as he spiraled into the air, heading north to only go south again. The air was blowing in his favor, she realized; he had to be fairly ntelligent, just lacking common sense. She continued staring up there as large thumps hurriedly approached her. "What is that, Suno?" a tall android asked, pointing up at the distant man in the sky. "Is that Goku?"

"Close," she replied, closing her eyes. He certainly was the same man, only in a different body.


	12. A Will to Die

**This one makes me kind of sad. Sorry, guys, I promise the next one will be about Chi-Chi and Goku.**

**And... about my comment, Chi-Chi getting what she deserves: I meant since everybody else's life has been awful because of Goku's departure (poor Briefs), I figured that her life also had to have its problems, or it wouldn't be fair to the rest of the characters. Anywho, on to the story!  
**

Gohan leaned foward on the writing desk in his bedroom, his cheek pressed again his fist in thought. He drummed the fingers of his opposite hand on the desk with his forehead furrowed, life's stress finally taking another bite out of him. Today had been the day Mr. Satan was supposed to die, but now he wasn't going to. And this was all thanks to Majin Buu.

Videl had decided to take a walk after the events of that morning, and Pan was trapped in her room, trying to figure out if she could go through the past few days all over again. Gohan wasn't sure if he could endure the same heart break again, but he would have to some time or another. He knew that the man would have to eventually die, though it didn't seem as if it would be for a while.

It had started half a year before, when Hercule was training in the dojo alone. He had been gaining weight, putting more strain on his body. He hadn't stretched before his private training session, and while doing a difficult kick to his left, he twisted his spine around and injured it. It hadn't paralyzed him, though his back was so weak afterward that he was still confined to bedrest for the rest of his life.

Hercule had realized, while lying in bed, that he didn't want to live. He had already lived his life through, and his body was damaged after a whole lifetime of martial arts. While he was already dying, he just wanted to continue on this route. Life had been a whole game of charades, putting himself forth as somebody he wasn't. Now he felt that it was his time to go the the large dojo in the sky, and this confidence had been strengthened by Goku's old talk of how being dead had been some of the best years of his existence. If he ever wanted to come back, there were always those Dragon Balls to revive him.

Majin Buu had been unaware that his best friend was going to die, and that morning, when Pan finally told him, he decided to heal Mr. Satan. It hadn't been expected at all; after days of mourning from both of the women in his family, Gohan couldn't imagine another period of time like this. He knew that once Mr. Satan was gone, they would feel worse, but he also knew that one must keep progressing forwards. Right now, they were back to the start.

Mr. Satan was now depressed, of all things, by the fact that he was still breathing the same air as the rest of them. He had become excited about the prospect of the unknown, but now he was forced to live again through all of the hardships he had been prepared to leave behind. Out of everybody, Gohan recognized that it would be his father-in-law who would have the most difficulty in still being there. There wasn't a way to kill him, however, unless it was by semi-natural causes; any other way would be wrong.

Videl wasn't upset that her father wanted to go; she had always been understanding. But now she had to watch her father, a fully healed man, mope around while in the best condition he been in for the past ten years. Pan, on the other hand, was only twelve years old and was at that stage when children think the world revolves around them. She was happy that her grandfather was still alive, though she was distressed by the thought that he had wanted to die because of her. As often as Gohan had tried assuaging her thoughts for the past few months, she still wouldn't see reason.

Gohan shook his head as he pondered over these events; life had taken a bad turn on him, and it was because of Majin Buu. He had never been fond of the pink creation, though this destroyed any shred of respect he had for the monster.

His thoughts shifted to something he had felt that morning, right after he found out that Majin Buu had actually gone and healed his father-in-law. None of the others had noticed, but a slight tremor of the ground shook the mansion that morning. He had even seen a hint of strange light peep from behind the hill outside Mr. Satan's window, though he ignored these two signs. At that moment, he could only focus on what was given to him and not take in more.

But now as he thought more about the slight phenomenon, he wondered exactly what it had been. He had felt a large ki, and though it felt familiar, he couldn't recall exactly whose it was. Gohan considered checking now to see what it had been, simply to take his mind off of matters. However, at the door to his bedroom, he heard a faint sniffling.

He sighed, glancing at a picture of his mother on the desk, and commanded firmly, "Come in!" He usually didn't stand for crying, though he figured that for today, it was acceptable. Even he had felt a few tears come to his eyes in the final hours approaching Hercule's 'death'.

He extended his arms as he saw Pan budge the door open and run towards him. He caught her while sitting, cradling his little twelve-year-old in his arms. She looked up at him, her face red as she sobbed, "Papa, why did Grandpa want to die? Is it because of me?"

His eyes lowered as she leaned her face against him, and he replied, "No, honey. It's because he's becoming old, and he doesn't... doesn't want to be old." He groaned slightly, realizing that he wasn't a very good at explaining touchy subjects to small children. This was more of Videl's expertise, though he didn't feel as if he could run the girl off and have her find her mother. So he continued, "Your grandfather loves you so much, much more than you could know. He just doesn't want to be here anymore."

Another round of tears began. "Because of me?" she repeated, burying her face deeper into her father's sweater.

"No, your grandfather just feels as though he's lived his life; you'll understand when you're older," he attempted to explain, but he felt Pan pull away from him, her expression completely changing.

What was an innocent and despaired face became a hideously cruel stare, a dam clogging her tear ducts. She suddenly, to her father's surprise, began beating against him with her fists, yelling, "I'm old enough to understand now! Tell me!"

His child had always been temperamental, and he supposed that she received that erratic behavior from his own mother. Gohan had never allowed her to exercise this, however, and quickly grabbed her wrists, quieting her screams until they died away. Then, with an eerie silence expanding in the room, he uttered beneath his breath, "Never hit me." His tone wasn't angry, but it was cold and condescending. It was something that he knew always scared Pan, and though he felt sorry for doing so, he knew that she needed to be stopped. She was uncontrollable at times, and that wasn't allowed, especially on days as hard as this one.

He dropped her arms quickly, and they hung limply by her side. She stood there, by her father, refusing to move or look at him. But when she glanced quickly to see what his reaction was, all she met was a glare. Apologetically, she threw her arms around him and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Papa."

Gohan's face softened as he picked her up again and said, "It's okay. It's all going to be okay." He hugged her closer to him, her chin resting on his shoulder as a trail of tears trickled onto his sweater. There was a reason that men weren't meant to raise children alone, he noted as Videl pushed the door open, a small smirk forming on her face as she saw the two hug.

And for a brief moment, the three of them completely forgot about Mr. Satan and Majin Buu. And Gohan forgot all about that strange light and shaking ground.

* * *

Goten flared up into a bright yellow, his hair sticking up as he pounced forward toward the dummy. He landed on one hands and, with his legs extended in the air, kicked the target's torso in half. Then, before the top half could land on the floor, he flipped backwards through the air and used several ki blasts to obliterate it. He landed on his feet after this maneuver, impressed even by his own ability.

It was then that he saw the door to the training center open, revealing his wife. He greeted Valese, now pregnant with their first child, as she entered cautiously. As always, she looked desperately lost; her eyes stared around the room, always amazed by the size of it.

He quickly descended from his Super Saiyan form, his eyes and hair reverting to black. She looked at him, even more helpless than usual, and asked, "Did you feel that earthquake?"

"It was probably me," he said nonchalantly, approaching her. He roughed his hair up, surprised that she still didn't realize how strong he was. Of course it was him; there were no earthquakes in East City.

She was persistent, clinging on to him and continuing dreamily, "And then there was that bright, yellow light. I've never seen anything so... beautiful."

Goten shot a confused look at her; didn't she realize that the light was probably from his Super Saiyan form? He placed his hand on her shoulder and said, "Again, it was probably me." But when she didn't answer, he decided to ask, "Where did you see the light come from?"

She pointed to one of the walls of the training room and said, "It came from over there."

Assuming it was simply pregnancy sickness giving her hallucinations, he said gently, "Head back into the house, sweetheart. I'll check it out after my next student leaves."

In the same confused state she entered, she wandered out of the building and headed back to the house built next door. Goten shook his head, wishing for a brief moment that he had married somebody with brains. Of course, Gohan had married somebody smart, and Goten didn't like Videl much at all. The pretty, dumb type was probably more suited for him, as he didn't enjoy being shown up by women trying to prove their superiority.

As the next pupil came in, Gohan forgot completely about his wife's concerns. It was probably nothing, anyways.


	13. To Prevent Wishes

**I'm just going to say that I hope this chapter fares better than the last one. Ha ha, Gohan was a bit OOC and Vegeta-ish, but that's because he changed; as for Goten, I've always imagined him being a brat like that. And, yes, the situation with Hercule is a bit unbelievable, I suppose; just stick with me, here, as I think I may put purpose to that plotline.  
**

Piccolo paced back and forth across Kami's Lookout furiously. Goku hadn't returned yet, and night had just fallen. Surely the white cat had come back from whatever business he had attended to; it was impossible the he had left the tower for that long. Piccolo considered flying down there and checking what was taking so long, but he didn't want to appear paranoid. There was no reason for Goku to become suspicious of nonexistent motives, because Goku was, at the moment, the last person he wanted angry. He had already tried killing the man, and he didn't need to give the Saiyan another reason to hunt him down.

He sighed as Dende called from inside the building, the doorway glowing a soft yellow, "Any sign of him, yet?" He sounded hopeful, so sure that Goku would return, but Piccolo couldn't share that enthusiasm. There was a chance that Goku had run off stupidly and tried to find Chi-Chi, but Piccolo had decided to, for once, try giving somebody the benefit of the doubt. It proved to be a more difficult task than he had hoped, however, and he found himself becoming more nervous.

"No, he hasn't come back," Piccolo replied, his voice booming from anxiety. Dende stepped outside with a lantern, the red flare of fire brightening the surrounding area. He came up to Piccolo and smiled, the flicker of the lantern hiding him from sight every few seconds.

"Don't worry," Dende attempted to comfort his friend, now standing a few feet away. Piccolo stopped his walking to look at his friend and assess the situation more closely. "You're trying to do my job now, Piccolo, so stop it." Piccolo only shook his head at this teasing, so Dende's voice became more serious as he continued, "Really. I understand your concern about Goku's return. In fact, I'm kind of surprised that you care that much about his family, Piccolo. It's Gohan, isn't it?"

Piccolo spat with disgust, his face a reddish hue with the lantern's light, and looked Dende in the eye. Slowly, disbelievingly, he asking, "Have you really not figured out why I care so much?" There was silence. "It's not because I care about his family at all. I'm trying to keep peace in order, which isn't going to happen with Goku around here. Fighting follows him like a dog on a leash."

Dende laughed persistently, "Stop kidding around, Piccolo. I know you still have a soft spot for his kid; I do, too. He saved my life on Namek, and I can't repay him for that."

"Really, Dende," the other Namekian countered, his voice bitter. "It doesn't come down to how I feel about his brat or not. It's about the peace of this planet: our planet." Dende sat down on a bench quietly and set the lantern on the ground, watching Piccolo attentively. "All of our fighters will be torn apart by his arrival; they're either relatives or friends of his. Everybody will be confused, and if I know Earthlings as well as I do, fighting will break out amongst us. We can't have that. And Goku simply attracts trouble, which he realized when dead those few years. By stopping his training, he's allowing some outside force to surpass him. We can't have that."

"So you want him as a weapon?" Dende inquired, propelling the Namekian to speak.

To this question, Piccolo grimaced and said, "Not exactly. I'm fine with whatever he does as long as he stays out of trouble. But, knowing Goku, it's impossible for him to stay out of where he's not wanted. That man Chi-Chi's married - he has a lot of power. He's an old loon, but he's got a whole army to basically back him. I didn't tell Goku this, but there's a lot more to him than a bag of bones. He's a good guy if you have him on your side. We want to keep him on our side."

"Surely we can take out a human army if necessary," Dende said, placing a slight grin on Piccolo's face. The boy was more like him than he thought; even the Guardian of Earth didn't mind taking down a few men if it meant maintaining the planet as a whole.

However, the boy didn't think into problems deeply enough. Piccolo argued, "Yes, we can take down an army with ease, but it's not advisable. We don't want the whole world against us, which is what would happen. It is possible that we could erase memories with the Dragon Balls again, but I'd rather not touch those things." Dende waited curiously for Piccolo to continue, and after turning himself around and walking a bit more, Piccolo resumed, "I think they're dangerous. I would like to destroy them; I don't think we should use them anymore."

This fear of his creations hurt Dende, and he said, "But... why? I'd rather not destroy them because I'm not sure I can make any more; I'm not even sure where Mr. Popo put that dragon model, now that I think about it..."

"I don't want you to make any more," Piccolo interrupted his musings, straightening the turban on his head. The glare of the lantern made him vanish from sight for a second, and when Dende saw his next expression, he saw that it was again one of anxiety. "And this is the Piccolo part of me, not Nail or Kami... Kami would kill me for saying this, but those balls are no good. They used to be the cause of fighting, and without them, I know there would be peace." There was another pause as he thought of how to word this, and after a brief second, he said, "You may not know the Red Ribbon Army, as I barely do, but they were a brute military force after the Dragon Balls. They were ruthless, and they destroyed everything in their path. I think..."

"You think that Chi-Chi's husband will try to put together an army if he finds out about them?"

Piccolo chuckled, "Sort of. There's no telling what loons do in their spare time, but there is a reason he's so rich; it's because of power. Some men do anything for power just as others do anything to put others in power. I've talked to Chi-Chi and told her not to mention the Dragon Balls to her husband, to which she agreed. I think that if I had told her why, she wouldn't trust me.

"And it's not just her husband that I'm afraid of. There are... other problems with having the Dragon Balls. We're made targets by outside worlds. Do you remember Frieza and Vegeta? Those were two unnecessary threats both fighting for immortality, which would be the last thing this universe needs."

Dende, having absorbed all of his friend's worries, stuttered, "So... you, you really want to... to destroy the Dragon Balls?" His voice was shaky because he knew exactly what that meant. He gripped the lantern in his hand and stood up as Piccolo finished the conversation with dire words.

"Yes, but for your own sake, I won't unless under necessary circumstances." Piccolo was reluctant to resort to any means to keep the wishes out of enemy hands; he would rather not be forced to kill Dende.

Before Dende could leave to think over what to do about the possible death threat, he heard Piccolo mumble, "And thanks, kid."

"For what?" the other Namekian asked, confused. For offering to give up his life for the fate of the world?

Piccolo smirked at Dende's fear and said, "For not healing Goku. I needed to get him off of my hands for a few hours to think straight. I'm just glad that he didn't remember you had healing powers." Then, as the lantern's flicker revealed a disheveled expression of uncertainty on the Guardian of Earth's green face, he said, "I'm going to go see what's taking him so long, now."

And with those few words, he leapt off the side of Kami's Lookout, headfirst.

* * *

Goku was sidling against the side of the house in the dark of night, a familiar noise reaching his large ears; it was the sound of dishes being washed and gentle humming. He knew this had to be Chi-Chi, as he could feel her energy. But he was too afraid to face the woman. In all truth, she was scarier than Cell's Perfect Form swelling up to blow the world up. Goku had to admit, though: that was uglier than it was scary.

He stopped as he came to an open window, glanced inside, and only saw an empty sitting room. He knew that this window wouldn't have Chi-Chi in it because it was too far away from the source of noise, though he was still hoping for a view of her. He desperately wanted to see what she looked like after all of his years gone.

With great caution, he stooped his head below the window frame and waddled, leaning forward, towards the back of the house. When he passed the window, he stood upright and stretched his back. Even he was becoming too old for stealth missions like this one.

It was then that he noticed a bed of white flowers. Chi-Chi had always loved it when he brought flowers home to her, so he plucked a few handfuls out of the ground, forgetting to brush the dirt out from their roots. Then he returned to the side of the house, stuffing the plants into his blue gi. He was sure that he could get her back if she remembered how much she loved flowers.

He turned the corner so that he was at the back of the house, saw a closed window, and peered in. It was just the sitting room again. He noticed that Chi-Chi's humming had become drastically louder, almost scaring him into running away. But he stood his ground and continued his mission.

There he saw another open window, and when he came closer, he noticed the same touch of perfume she used to wear. Yes, this had to be Chi-Chi; the thought had him trembling, though he enjoyed putting himself up to a challenge. It was the first one he had faced in a long time.

He crouched under the window sill, considering how to approach her. Maybe he should have just used the front door, though that didn't seem as fun to him. Of course, she always had complained about how barbaric his behavior was, and he doubted that spying on her counted as civilized behavior... It was too late to back out, now, however. He needed to find out now if she loved him before Piccolo could find him.


	14. The Weapon of Fear

**I love writing about Yajirobe. Anyways, I hope this update doesn't seem too OOC for any of the characters.**

Yajirobe shuffled the cards, his pudgy fingers preventing a few from falling into place. He groaned as they flew everywhere; he really needed to get a better grip on the flimsy things. He pushed his chair back and kneeled on the floor, his red scarf trailing on the ground as picked each card up one by one and placed them messily on the table. Korin laughed, grabbing his furry stomach, and said, "With the amount you eat, it's not surprising that you could drop to the floor so quickly. I'd just like to see you try to stand back up!"

The chubby man rolled his eyes, muttering a few choice words under his breath at the white cat, most of them involving his mother. Finally, after picking up about half of the cards, he told Korin, "You're just jealous that I get to leave the tower and eat other stuff besides those stupid Senzu Beans!"

Korin growled at the dishonor this lowly human was showing him, though his anger dissipated as he stared at one of the Joker cards with Mr. Satan's face on it. He continued looking at it until Yajirobe threw a King on it. Korin hurriedly slid the Joker out from under it and, with the card in his hand, asked his companion, "Have you heard anything about Mr. Satan lately? I haven't heard anything about that oaf in a while."

"Nothing much," Yajirobe grunted, pulling himself up as he placed the last of the cards on the table. He gathered them all into a deck after plucking the Joker from Korin's hand and began turning them over, making certain that they were each facing the right way. "He hasn't been in the news much lately; I think something's happened to him."

Korin bobbed his head at the thought; not much gossip had been flying about the World Martial Arts Champion of the late. It was odd. He heard his name often for a cat that didn't get out much, yet now, all news had disappeared. Curious...

"How about that Majin Buu guy?" Korin asked as Yajirobe began shuffling the deck again. "He hasn't become his old pink, menacing self again, has he?"

"No," Yajirobe replied, fumbling the cards in his hands. "I've heard that he's been taking care of that whole mansion. Even does the housekeeping sometimes. You know Goku's son? Well, he's moved into the mansion with his wife and kid just a month ago or so. I can't remember if their kid's a boy or girl; it sure acts like a boy, but I think it might be a girl."

"Considering what a wimpy man Goku's son seems to have become in the past few years, I'm surprised that he can even have kids," Korin chuckled, receiving cards as Yajirobe dealt them out. "He's dropped all training, hasn't he? I mean, all he does is read books, and I've heard that he's none too happy a man." Yajirobe nodded, trying to keep count of the number of cards he handed out. "At least his other boy's a fighter. Has his own training center and gives lessons to kids, right? Knocked his woman up, right?" Korin spat, laughing, "What a waste of talents! They're strong boys, and they should focus on their training lives, not training their wives! What good-for-nothings..."

Yajirobe smirked as, with Korin distracted, he slipped himself a few aces and kings. He had learned that once the cat started talking, he couldn't focus on anything else, giving him the perfect advantage while playing card games. But Korin was so distracted by his own gossip that he could hardly remember why they were sitting at the table, cards in their hands.

"And don't even get me started on that Krillin fellow! Speaking of wastes of talent; he's a hard worker, and he's letting it go to waste! He grew his hair out, has an android for a wife, and somehow managed to have a girl with her." Yajirobe only nodded, knowing all of this already because he was the one who had given Korin the information after his excursions outside of the tower. This was his perfect weapon for winning card games. While Korin wasn't looking, he began pretending to shuffle the deck, really placing cards strategically for when it was his turn to draw. He continued listening to the cat's blabbering. "He grew his hair out? Can you believe it?" Yajirobe snorted a laugh; that had been news a few decades ago. Perhaps the cat was senile, as he seemed to bring up Krillin's hair every card game. "And, oh, don't get me started on that Piccolo character! I can't believe he sent Goku down here; can't Dende heal him? But, no, the sneaky fellow probably just wanted to push the Saiyan off on us, sick of him." Incredulously, he exclaimed, "What do I look like, a babysitter?"

The cards flew everywhere as a gust of wind came down, and a low voice said, in as cheery a tone as ever, "No, I think you look more like a sucker." Yajirobe and Korin both gulped; their gossip sessions usually went uninterrupted, so Piccolo's arrival had been quite unexpected.

Yajirobe bit his bottom lip nervously, watching the intimidating Namekian's every move. "Where's Goku?" he asked, his mood plummeting as he noticed the Saiyan was nowhere to be seen. To Yajirobe's relief, Korin was the one to receive the threatening glare as he repeated, more fiercely, "Where's Goku?"

It was just as he feared: the Saiyan had slipped away under his detection, and he didn't even listen as Korin muttered, "Well, you see, he sort of left..."

"Where did he go?" Piccolo demanded, his fists curled tightly as he felt his good mood disappear.

Korin chose his words carefully as he stated, "He... went to go visit Chi-Chi." Piccolo growled at his fear receiving the confirmation it needed to jump from being a fear to becoming reality.

"Where does Chi-Chi live?" he asked the cat, towering over him.

Scooting back in his seat and placing his hands protectively over his head, he said earnestly, "I don't know, I don't know! Yajirobe's the one who told him where to go, not me!"

The cat snickered, then, as the Namekian turned towards the fat man. As he moved forwards, Yajirobe stepped backwards, and this continued until Yajirobe reached the edge of the tower. Then, with a swift movement, Piccolo picked the short man up by his shirt and barked, "Tell me where he is!"

Yajirobe wiggled in the air helplessly, his stubby limbs waving through the air. He lied, "I don't know where he is! I swear!" Then, in a tiny, pitifully shameful voice, he added, "Please don't hurt me."

Piccolo seethed with rage, a sudden fury sweeping over him. "If you don't tell me where he is," he threatened, hanging Yajirobe over the side of the tower now, "I'm going to drop you! I know you know where he is, so don't hide it from me!"

Yajirobe protested with grunts, succumbing to the pressure by yelling, "I'll tell you! I'll tell you! It's a large white house to the south of North City, right by the mountains! I swear, I swear! Now let me go!"

True to his word, Piccolo released the poor man over the tiled floor, setting him down quite gently for a man of his anger. Then, without another word, he took off from the tower, heading north. He was quite disgusted with himself because Kami was quite disgusted with him. He had acted with the cold rage of Piccolo and the passion of Nail, disregarding the elder Namekian's advice of peacefulness in his mind. Despite what Kami had ever said, Piccolo had to admit that Vegeta had always been right in one respect; fear was an effective tool to get information out of a source quickly.

* * *

At Chi-Chi's house, Goku was still hiding in the dark of night beneath the window sill. He couldn't decide whether to simply stand up and surprise her or whether to go about it another way. He had already decided that flying to the window would be a bad idea; she hated it when he flew. That was also the reason why he had decided not to use Instant Transmission to simply teleport himself to North City. Along with her hating that method of transportation, there was a chance that, because he was unfamiliar with this region of the world, he would become lost. And he didn't want to bother King Kai again, lest he be forced into laughing at another one of his jokes. Plus, by flying to her house, he managed to gather some time to think of exactly how to approach the woman.

Of course, it didn't seem as if he'd given himself enough time to think.

Goku had no other ideas of how to get her to notice him, so he decided to stick with his first plan. He quickly stood up straight, sticking his head above the window sill to let Chi-Chi see him. However, instead of hearing her exclaim happily at his arrival, an unfamiliar scream pierced the air.

One of the maids who had taken over washing dishes for Chi-Chi had just seen a strange man appear in the window, blocking the moon light. After releasing a scream, she took the frying pan in her hand and hit him squarely in the jaw with it. To her further horror, however, he simply pried it off of his face, the metal having taken the shape of his chin.

Goku scratched his head awkwardly, handing the deformed pan back to the woman with a nervous laugh. This wasn't Chi-Chi...


	15. Avoiding Danger

**I have a question for you readers: how long does it take for a Saiyan to travel all around the world by the very end of Z? My sister thought two seconds, but I think it would take longer... I was actually thinking more along terms of at least an hour, but I might still have my head stuck in the Android Saga. Thanks!**

The young maid stared at the strange man, her right hand placed directly over her heart as he shoved the pan back into her left one. She stepped backwards and retreated after setting the pan on the kitchen island, her dress clenched in hand to keep herself from tripping on the fringe. She disappeared up the stairs, running as quickly as possible until she ran into the woman she was looking for: Mrs. Kahn.

"Mrs. Kahn!" she exclaimed, out of breath and grabbing at her frizzled, black hair. "Mrs. Kahn, you have to come here! There's a man at your kitchen window, and I hit him, and he wasn't hurt at all! Come on, Mrs. Kahn!"

Chi-Chi simply stared at the girl in amazement as her hand was taken. The next thing she knew, the young girl was pulling her down the spiral staircase, through the hallway, and into the kitchen. There was nothing at the window, however.

The confused girl's jaw dropped as she hurried to the open window, sticking her head through it and looking around her. The strange man had disappeared. She pulled herself over the sink and out of the window, her feet dangling off the floor. Persistently, she continued examining the exterior of the house, trying to look around objects to see if he was hiding. She kept looking for a few seconds before Chi-Chi grabbed her shoulder and dragged her out of the window. Concerned for the girl's health, she said, "Go ahead and get to bed. I think you've been working too long. Take a cup of water and drink it before you sleep; I've always been told that it'll help clear your mind." Chi-Chi gave her a friendly wink as she placed a glass under the sink faucet, pouring some tap water into it.

Due to being distracted, neither woman heard a muffled fall in the other room. Goku had taken a dive headfirst into the empty sitting room after rounding the side of the house, afraid that his chance of talking to Chi-Chi was slipping away. It proved to be a smart plan as, while the girl was heading upstairs, Chi-Chi decided to close and lock the window over the sink. She didn't want to risk there really being somebody out there, though she thought the maid had just had a hard day's work.

After grabbing herself a glass of water, she pulled a wooden stool up to the island and placed the cup on the butcher block, sighing. Goku's head stuck out from the wall of the other room a bit, just enough so that his eyes could observe her profile. And he was surprised by what he saw.

Chi-Chi had aged a lot within eight years, he noticed. She had large creases in her forehead from strain, and her cheeks had begun sagging a bit, like an old woman's. Her eyes lacked the same luster they contained when she had been his wife, even if those eyes had, most of the time, been full of rage. They widened as they met the dented pan on the counter. Her hands, he noticed as she reached for the metal, didn't have veins, but they had become bonier. Still, even with her older appearance, she was beautiful. She had that same grace about her that she had gained through adulthood, and her hair was as soft and dark as from the day he had first met her. The memory brought a smile to his lips, and he forgot about staying covert.

Her eyes trailed and stopped on him, her mouth dropping. She blinked and set the deformed pan down, letting Goku know that she had seen him. It had been his hair, sticking up and preventing his attempt at hiding to succeed. She had spotted the familiar, messy black hair. Goku pulled his head back around the wall, panicking. He wasn't prepared to talk to her yet.

She, as quickly as possible, leapt up from the stool and ran around the corner. To her dismay, nothing was there except for her favorite green sofa, which she wasn't terribly excited to see. She wasn't sure if it was better or not that he had just been a figment of her imagination; she wanted to see him, but at the same time, she wanted him to be gone.

Chi-Chi returned to the kitchen, grabbing her glass as she shuffled by the kitchen island after giving the pan one last confused glance. She sighed, disappointed, and began heading back up the stairs. She really had wished that Goku had really been there; she needed some form of excitement at this age.

She had only really been doing housework of the late, and though she had done that all of her life, this felt different. She knew that she loved Samuel Kahn, though it felt like a different type of love than what she had felt for the Saiyan. If only she could talk to him at least once more, perhaps she would be satisfied with how her life had changed. Her mind had mutilated her memories and made them seem better than they really were, and now she looked back, remembering the good days of youth and happiness.

Goku watched as she walked up the steps; he had used Instant Transmission to, of all places, simply transport himself to the ceiling of that same sitting room. If he had thought more clearly, he would have transported himself away from the situation, taking himself to King Kai's planet or back to Kami's Lookout. But the determination to talk to Chi-Chi had clogged his brain, and there was no turning away now.

* * *

Kibito Kai leaned back against the soft grass of his sacred planet, one leg crossed over the other. He amused himself by running his fingers through his long, white hair and watching the passing clouds, thinking of all things he should be doing as the East Supreme Kai. Yet, without the will to do those things, he found himself just lazing around, entertaining himself with small things.

Elder Kai, on the other hand, wasn't so easily satisfied. He needed constant attention from the younger Kai when he wasn't rereading the same comic he had brought, flipping back and forth between pages with women whenever he came across them. He looked up at the other Kai lounging on the hill and asked, reminded by one of the drawings, "When do you think I'll finally get that kiss Goku promised me? He's never come back to tell me, so when am I supposed to receive it?"

By the kiss, he was referring to a deal he had made with Goku; if he would train Gohan, he would receive a kiss by a beautiful, blue-haired maiden. And after eighteen years, that promise still hadn't been fulfilled.

Kibito Kai was used to hearing this complaint, so he simply replied, "Check the crystal ball. Maybe you can talk to him if he's not too busy training."

The older Kai nodded, standing up and dusting his pants off. After living on this planet for so long, he expected Shibito to have gotten some furniture for them to at least sit on. But, no; the Kibito inside insisted on everything on the planet being sacred. He already got in trouble at least once a week for having so many 'evil' comics, but he couldn't see how the Supreme Kai survived without something to keep him busy. He either thought too much or too little, his mind wandering into space.

Having not been used in weeks, Elder Kai finally found the crystal ball lodged between two rocks. Using all of the strength his upper body possessed, he thrust himself backwards, attempting to pull the ball out of the wedge. After two pulls, he finally landed on his back, the crystal ball soaring through the air. Kibito Kai sat up as the ball approached him and landed in his lap. After a second of confusion, Kibito Kai called, "I caught it!"

Elder Kai pushed himself off the ground, muttering, "Show off." He dusted his outfit off again and trekked up the hill until he reached the younger Kai. He grabbed the crystal ball from his grip and said, "Next time, try helping me pull the ball out of the crevice instead of sitting there like a moron."

He then plopped down onto the ground and, after giving the ball a good rub with his sleeve, closed his eyes in concentration. He waved his wrinkled, purple hands just above the gleaming surface of the ball as Kibito Kai tugged at one of his Potara earrings nervously. It had been a while since he'd checked up on anybody; he hoped that nothing drastic had happened to Earth, though it was North Kai's job to keep him informed. So, he was surprised by what he saw when Elder Kai's crystal ball revealed Goku, pressed against the ceiling of a room.

"That's peculiar," the older Kai murmured, giving the ball another rub. He blinked a few times before asking, "What kind of a village is this Uub guy living in? One with crown molding in every house?"

Kibito Kai shook his head; this definitely wasn't Uub's village. He wasn't sure exactly where Goku was, but he certainly didn't appear to be training. His eyes narrowed as he called into the air, "North Kai? Are you there?"

And on King Kai's planet, the blue Kai cringed with fear. Gregory laughed, knowing that his boss was finally checking in on him to see that he was doing a fairly bad job at maintaining Earth's order.


	16. An Oncoming Threat

**I promise that I'll make up for this chapter with lots of Chi-Chi and Goku interaction next chapter. For now, enjoy!**

King Kai stood up from kneeling next to his precious, red car. Even since it had blown up along with the rest of his planet in that desperate attempt to keep Cell from destroying the world, he had been overly protective of its replacement. It was an exact replica of the old one he owned, and since he had managed to snag East Kai's planet in their friendly betting match in the Other World Tournament, he had a home to put it on. No longer had he been forced to live as a wandering, car-less nomad; he now had a vehicle to transport him around the tiny planet.

He had decided to take his mind off all worries by waxing the car, dragging the cricket and monkey into doing the majority of the dirty work. He had simply been inspecting their job, pointing flaws out whenever they caught his eye. But the second he turned around to criticize Bubbles' workmanship, he heard a clear, young voice cutting through the air like a saw. King Kai's eyes widened with horror; anything but that pompous, spoiled, brat...

He clenched his eyes, hoping that what he had feared would not be standing before him. However, as he heard Gregory's high-pitched laughter, he knew that who he had feared had just appeared on his tiny planet. That was just dandy.

He slowly opened one eye, shutting it as soon as his fear was confirmed; it definitely was Kibito Kai and Elder Kai. Those were the only two he knew who could wear those stupid outfits and get away with it. Even Grand Elder had to put up with the pair, obeying their every command. He cursed the day that Goku had ever gotten those two involved in his life, as what had once been visits every thousand years quickly became semi-annual trips. And, as he opened his eyes again, he noticed that the looks on their faces were not pleasant.

They must have found out about Goku's return. He sneered in disgust, glaring at the cricket who was too busy bursting with laughter to notice. Oh, if Gregory had been the one to tell them about how he hadn't been updating them with the latest happenings on Earth, he would have to run that cricket over in his newly polished convertible.

"You haven't been talking to us much, North Kai," Kibito Kai said, brushing pleasantries aside as quickly as possible. "It's been a few months, I think."

King Kai glowered, hating that name. It was King Kai, not North Kai. He treated him as if he was just another direction on a compass. Next, he would be in competition with Northwest Kai, or Northeast Kai, or Northwest Farther East Kai. No, he refused to be treated with such respect as being labeled with just a direction, though he wasn't able to argue with the Kai. He was his boss...

"It's actually been a couple of years, Kibito Kai," King Kai said nonchalantly, pretending to drop his defense. He let his arms drop to his side from his crossed position, staring the purple Kai straight in the eyes. "And I'm not sure why you've come here; I didn't invite you."

"Come on, North Kai," Kibito Kai pleaded, stepping forward with extended arms. "We're on the same side. Just tell us about Earth. Elder Kai and I were looking through the crystal ball and saw that Goku wasn't in Uub's village anymore. Do you know anything about it?"

King Kai only grunted, leaning against his red car now, "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. Whatever it is, I can handle it myself." His face scrunched up as he held his head high, attempting to restore any dignity he may have lost in prior battles against Kibito Kai. Whatever happened, he was sure that he would win this round; he couldn't stand that uptight, lazy, despicable, purple Kai. He had given up even trying to stand him years ago, before Goku was even born. It had been something from long ago that he couldn't let go of.

"North Kai, just tell us," Kibito Kai insisted, attempting to place his hand on the blue Kai's shoulder only to have it shrugged off. "I'm not sure what I did to have you act like this, but I think you're acting rather immaturely. Just help us; we need you to tell us exactly what's happening on Earth or we might head there ourselves."

The blue Kai snickered, hiding his mouth behind his large, black sleeve. He supposed that he could tell the Supreme Kai all about how Chi-Chi had gotten married, Vegeta had run off, and Piccolo was trying to kill Goku... But he refrained from doing so. Anything he could hold above the Supreme Kai's snobby head was worth holding.

However, after an moment of thinking, he did realize that the Kai could help him in something. He hadn't revealed the fact that Vegeta had run off on the last few visits as he hadn't given it much thought, but since Goku's return that morning, he began wondering exactly where the Saiyan was. As much as he hated asking for the Kai's help, he knew that he would be able to pinpoint Vegeta's location. It was vital to know for his next plans: what he told Goku to do depended heavily on that important bit of information.

He didn't want the Supreme Kai to become more deeply involved with anything pertaining to Earth or his quadrant of the universe, but he decided that this was more important even than his grudge with the purple Kai. So, reluctantly, he opened his mouth and admitted, "Vegeta left some years ago to train, and I would like for you to tell me exactly where he is."

"But, I asked about Goku, not-" the East Supreme Kai protested, only to have his older counterpart elbow him in the gut.

Seeing where he could finally join the conversation, Elder Kai offered, "I can help you find where Vegeta is." He figured that searching for a lost Saiyan would be far more amusing than just watching Kibito Kai argue with the stubborn blue Kai; it didn't appear as if the two were getting anywhere through words, so action was necessary to prevent the blabbering from continuing for hours.

Digging the crystal ball out of his pants to the blue Kai's disgust, he finally held it in front of everybody for their eyes to see. King Kai harrumphed as both Gregory and Bubbles were mesmerized by the shining sphere, which he didn't find to be that impressive; old Baba had the exact same thing, which they both had seen before. He had many things he wanted to say, but he kept himself from talking because, for once, the Kais had decided to do a favor without interrogating him first.

King Kai watched as Elder Kai plopped down on his perfectly mowed lawn and hovered his hands just over the ball's surface. Then he muttered, "It appears that he's back in your quadrant, North Kai. He's... he's eating something. I'm not sure what it is; it almost looks like the legs of an Arlian, but those apparently became extinct in this section of the universe only a few decades ago. He's taking a large chunk out of his leg... yes, he's got a particularly large chunk of its leg in his mouth and... Eww! Now he's chewing it, and its exoskeleton his breaking in his teeth! Disgusting!"

King Kai attempted to catch a glance at the crystal ball, but Elder Kai constantly moved it out of his sight, gaining pleasure in watching the blue Kai hop up and down furiously. The old Kai chuckled at the sight of the blue Kai turning red, finally yelling, "Let me see the crystal ball!"

Everybody began laughing out loud, even that good-for-nothing, too-civilized-for-his-own-good, innocent-pretty-boy Kibito Kai. Finally, after only a few seconds of the group's chorus of chuckles, King Kai snatched the crystal ball out of Elder Kai's grasp and rubbed it with his black sleeve, giving it a spit to shine it up. He glanced over at Kibito Kai's scrunched up face, gaining an advantage over the group again. As Elder Kai began racing towards him, King Kai held his foot out and tripped the old Kai, planting his face into the finest soil in the universe.

King Kai had to admit that it was worth ruining his perfect gardening job to see Elder Kai's fury as he yelled, "Give me my crystal ball back! You're going to break it!" But King Kai ignored him and began staring into the ball, searching for answers.

The crystal ball presented an image of Vegeta sitting on the rock, making a meal of an overgrown insect, just as Elder Kai had described. However, when King Kai peered more deeply into the crystal ball, holding it high above the rest, he saw something that made him nearly drop it on Elder Kai's head: Vegeta was closer than he had suspected.

In the background, he spotted a familiar planet in the background, behind the large space ship. The new Planet Namek was sitting in space, a green glow emanating from it. King Kai gulped and exclaimed, "He's closer than I thought! He's only a few days away from here!" He then tugged at his robe collar and muttered, "There have been too many things happening lately, too many. And all in a day!"

It was then that, at these words, the East Supreme Kai lifted his head and asked seriously, "What do you mean by 'too many things'? What else has happened?"

King Kai's eye bulged. He had just landed himself into yet another problem, he noticed, as the purple Kai walked forward, focusing his eyes on the blue Kai with an almost threatening glare to his eyes. This was not good at all.


	17. In Times of Panic

**Sorry for taking so long on this one - my internet was down for a while, strangely. Oh, and by the way... ****1,863 views for November! Thanks, guys!  
**

Goku drifted up the dark stairwell, Chi-Chi having turned off all lights as she passed through. He stayed elevated just over the ground to prevent any squeaks from loose floorboards - that had always been a problem when he had tried sneaking out of the house at night on Mount Paozu, as Chi-Chi would find him halfway through the door, the next day's ham tucked in the nook of his elbow. That was when he had learned to noiselessly make his way around the house, even learning the art of opening the refrigerator without a sound.

He peered over the top step to see Chi-Chi heading down a hallway to her right and immediately disappearing. This house was far larger than the house on Mount Paozu; Chi-Chi had always complained about not having enough space for her clothes, but he was sure that she had all the room in the world now. He grinned, thinking of how many closets Chi-Chi probably hoarded to herself. At least she wasn't Bulma, insisting on separate closets for different seasons of outfits and then designating one just for shoes. He remembered hearing Vegeta complain about the stupidity of these small quirks years ago.

Making sure that nobody was watching through the open doors nearest him, he used Instant Transmission to reach the end of the long corridor, taking a bit of a stumble as he tried remaining behind the wall. He looked around it to see Chi-Chi slowly opening one door carved from ornate wood. She slid into the room, kicking her slippers off as she made her way inside.

Goku, on his feet now, tiptoed his way across another hallway to reach the large doors. He considered knocking, but then he remembered how this was probably her bedroom. And she was married to another man, which could be strange if he suddenly barged in. He closed his eyes for a brief second, imagining a scene of hilarity as he slammed the doors open only to have his wife yell at him, hitting him over the head with a frying pan. But he quickly snapped out of this little dream as he heard a noise, and he quickly rushed around the corner, away from the sound.

He peered around the corner to see that maid he had scared earlier come down a flight of steps with somebody else. He overheard her saying, "It was really weird! I don't think I've ever been so afraid in my life - he just popped out of nowhere! He was wearing some of those clothes that Chi-Chi refuses to let us clean; I think they're fighting clothes, if I remember right. I've never seen any of her friends actually wear it before. That short with the grey hair and moustache doesn't wear it, and neither does her other friend, the taller one that's married to the owner of Capsule Corp, but I know they're both fighters - she told me that herself." Then she sighed as she reached the bottom step, saying to her friend, "You can go on to bed. I need another glass of water, and then I'll be right back up."

Goku grinned slightly, knowing that this was his chance to actually get some information out of somebody. He wondered how to go about approaching the maid - with a friendly hello, or should he just wave to her as she walked around the corner? He was sure that she wouldn't object to giving him some useful information. He just wanted to know a bit more about Chi-Chi's new life before making it known that he wanted to be back in it. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wouldn't be satisfied unless Chi-Chi came back to him. It really was unfair for her to abandon him, as he'd only been gone for eight years.

As the maid rounded the corner, Goku said brightly, "Hi! My name's Goku - I was wondering-" But at once, the woman began screaming, attempting to run away. Goku prevented her escape by grabbing her arm; he'd rather not have her tell Chi-Chi a more detailed description of what this mysterious intruder looked like. But she continued screaming and tugging to pull his stubborn arm away, actually tearing her sleeve in the process. Uncertain as of what to do, Goku finally decided to pull her closer to him, place a large hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, and whisper, "I'm sorry," before placing two fingers to his forehead and disappearing along with the girl.

Chi-Chi ran out of the room as quickly as her back would allow and looked around the hallway. The awful noise had ceased suddenly. She wasn't sure what it was, but the next time she heard it, she would be sure to bring a rifle out of the room with her. At that moment, however, she was too tired to perform an investigation of the entire mansion. If she had, right around the corner from her bedroom, she would have seen her favorite maid's dress sleeve on the floor, torn off from a desperate struggle.

* * *

King Kai's planet was silent, aside from the constant buzz of Gregory's suspended flight in air. The Kais, the monkey, and the cricket were all speechless, unsure of what to make of the information of Vegeta being so close. With proper technology, he could return to Earth in less than a week if he was so close to Namek. Or, perhaps being close to Namek was a strategic point on his part. He might have been heading there to make a wish on the Dragon Balls.

The East Supreme Kai paced back and forth, tapping his forefinger to his lips in thought. This certainly was more exciting than what he had been doing, though he wished it hadn't happened. He preferred boring to exciting, because boring was at least predictable. The last thing that he needed was for something to affect the whole universe, and from what he remembered, these Saiyans had quite a way of getting themselves involved in foolish stunts. Vegeta was the most hardheaded of them all. If he was up to something, it probably wasn't a good thing.

"I'll go get him," Kibito Kai offered, rolling his sleeves up at the prospect. But King Kai spat in disgust.

"Don't mess with the universal balance," the blue Kai ordered, his fists on his wide hips. He lifted his face to the air again as he continued, "You Supreme Kais never know when to leave things alone. Things will usually work themselves out, you know. It's just the way that the universe is."

Kibito Kai sighed and turned away, unhappy to be following the orders of a lower Kai. He almost said something, but Elder Kai quickly exclaimed, "Wait!" He was posed comically, his hands held before him and his jaw ajar as he felt vibrations through the air. "There's something coming..."

The two Kais stopped their brief bickering to feel that, for once, Elder Kai had indeed felt a twinge in the air. They bit their lips, wondering exactly what it was. And what it was scared the two purple Kais and merely shocked the blue Kai.

Goku had appeared, a hand forcefully on the mouth of a young girl, his elbow locking her arm into place, and two fingers on his forehead. The maid had fainted on the journey there, so Goku set her down, dusting his own clothes off as the planet's dirt stirred up at his arrival. Everybody, including the cricket and monkey, could only watch in awe.

Goku chuckled nervously, unsure of exactly what had happened. He had teleported the girl alongside himself, needing to take her to a place where Chi-Chi wouldn't be able to hear her screams. Reluctant to take her back to Kami's Lookout, he took her to the only other place he could think of on the top of his head, and that was King Kai's Planet. Only, to the Saiyan's dismay, the Kai had company that might find this scenario a bit more serious than it actually was. Goku hadn't done anything to her, but from the look on the East Supreme Kai's face, he might have murdered her.

King Kai finally asked hysterically, waving his arms as a dam burst, "What have you done, Goku? Who's this?" He hovered over the young woman who Elder Kai obviously approved of by his laughter.

Goku shrugged and said, "I haven't done anything. I just needed her, she's one of Chi-Chi's maids, to tell me some things about Chi-Chi before I talked to her. She started screaming, so I used Instant Transmission, and she fainted." The nonchalance in his tone nearly had King Kai fall over, but Kibito Kai rolled his sleeves back up menacingly.

"Wait one second," the purple Kai said threateningly, waggling a finger at the taller Saiyan. "I was just being told that Earth shouldn't have any upperworldly interference, and you come barging in here as the best evidence I can find?" Then, turning to the exhausted King Kai, he exclaimed, "I told you that you needed to keep an eye on Earth. You're just too lazy to do anything about the planet!"

King Kai puffed his chest up, jabbing his finger into the arm of Kibito Kai. "You're calling me lazy? What about you? At least I wax my car! And I have a monkey and cricket to take care of! What are you taking care of up in Upper World, hrm? Oh, that's right... nothing!"

Kibito Kai allowed a rare anger to control his calm being, finally giving up on the blue Kai. "You call me lazy? I take care of more important matters than you. Who killed Majin Buu the first time around?"

With a snort, the blue Kai argued, "You didn't even kill him! That was centuries, no, millenia ago, and you still let him lie dormant in an egg! Idiot!"

"I just didn't want to reactivate the egg by trying to destroy it!"

"I think you were just lazy!"

"Was not!"

"Was to!"

"Lazy!"

"Liar!"

"Quiet!"

All heads turned as Elder Kai jumped between the two, holding a fist up to Kibito Kai. "You call yourself a Supreme Kai? You're a disgrace! Control your temper, boy!" And with those few words, King Kai knew that he had finally won a battle; Kibito Kai's head was hung low with shame.

The monkey, the cricket, and the Saiyan could only watch, amazed, as the three dealt with one another. All tenseness in the air ceased, however, as Elder Kai dropped his fierce act and, walking away from the other Kais, approached Goku. Then, to the dismay of the already upset Kibito Kai, he whispered into the ear of the Saiyan while pointing to the fainted maid, "She doesn't have blue hair, but she's still a looker." A sudden excitement passed over his face as he asked, "Can I kiss her now?"


	18. Thrown Off Track

**I'm a bad person! I'm so, so sorry - I completely forgot about my promise. But, I shall repair that by making a new promise and KEEPING IT! Next chapter, my friends!**

Piccolo crossed his arms, looking up at the large house. It fit Yajirobe's description perfectly: it was white, it was large, and it was in the south part of North City. However, standing right under it, he couldn't feel any familiar ki coming from inside. He huffed a sigh, wondering if Yajirobe had given him wrong directions. He had trusted the fat man, but now he could only imagine that the man had been on Goku's side the whole time, giving him a red herring to let the Saiyan do as he please. His next plan would have been to try sensing Goku's ki across the planet, but he couldn't feel that ki at all. It was almost as if it had vanished from Earth.

He huffed, stepping up to the mansion. He rapped on the door with his green knuckles and waited. Maybe this was the right house and Goku was only hiding his power level.

* * *

Chi-Chi sat up from her bed. She had only laid back down half a minute ago, after checking the corridor briefly. There was a knock at her door. She turned over to her husband, who was already sedated by the drugs his doctor was having him use, and she sighed. If only the man of the house was young enough to actually act like the man of the house, then she could get some rest around this place. However, she couldn't blame him for his age; in ten years she might end up the same way, because she knew he hadn't always been that way. It was only five years ago that he was a healthy man, hobbling around and playing with Pan. She sighed wistfully; she loved Samuel Kahn, but sometimes, she wished that she could forget his old age and medical equipment.

She rolled onto the floor, grabbing the rifle leaning against her bedside table. She always kept this close at night in fear of something happening, as she dreaded being utterly defenseless. She wanted to find that helmet she used to wear which contained both a blade and laser in it, though that had been long lost. It was a shame, too; that was a very special item, and she wished she could have kept it to remember her father by.

After she opened the door, another round of knocks persisted, this one being louder than its predecessor. She crept stealthily down the stairs, almost afraid. That night had been strange. There was a mysterious man who she thought she'd seen a glimpse of, that deformed frying pan as proof that her maid wasn't crazy, and a scream. Now somebody was at her door in the dark of night, which she found to be completely odd. Nobody ever visited their house before seven, because most of their family friends knew that Samuel would probably be asleep by that time.

She, after pausing in front of the door for a second and listening, swung it open and held her rifle up to the person. However, as she looked up at the person, he saw that it was Piccolo, looking utterly nonplussed by the threat of a rifle. His arms were crossed, and he only gazed down angrily as usual. What Chi-Chi didn't see was a slight smirk form across his lips - this was the right house.

"Chi-Chi," he said, looming over the woman as the wind caught his cape, "I have to ask you something. Has Goku visited your house tonight? You have to tell me. It's urgent."

Chi-Chi could only shake her head, surprised by the visit. She hadn't seen Piccolo in decades, and he looked the exact same. Where was the fairness in that? Though, instead of complaining about old age, she replied uncertainly, "No, I... I don't think so..." She then gulped as she realized exactly what Piccolo had asked her. He had asked her about Goku visiting.

Seeing the woman was choking up, he scoffed, hoping she would quit her blubbering to answer his next question. "If he visits, will you contact me?" He trusted the woman. He knew that if Goku had arrived, Chi-Chi would be angry, not this sentimental mess. That was the way women worked; they dreamed about something, but when they finally saw it, they realized why they couldn't stand it in the first place. It was one of the many reasons why Piccolo didn't understand them.

Chi-Chi only nodded, tugging at the collar of her night dress as Piccolo turned around and flew off, heading south. She watched him until he disappeared over their rooftop, and then she slumped down on the doorstep, leaving the door cracked open. Why would Piccolo ask if Goku had visited? Had he finally returned?

* * *

Goku's mind reeled as he tried thinking of exactly what Elder Kai was asking. He wanted to kiss this girl? After a moment, it clicked, and he remembered his promise from years ago in exchange for Gohan's training. He began thinking over just letting Elder Kai kiss this maid, but that felt wrong, seeing as she was unconscious. But letting him kiss Bulma felt wrong, too. That wouldn't be a very nice souvenir to bring Bulma back from eight years of being gone. He didn't want too many women to be mad at him.

Finally, Goku reached a decision. As the other two Kais stared at him incredulously, he told Elder Kai, "Sure, when she wakes up, you can kiss her. But I need to go find Chi-Chi now. I just had to have a spot to drop her off, so I've got to go."

"Wait!" King Kai yelled, shuffling quickly away from the abashed Supreme Kai and towards the tall Saiyan. "There's something you must know. We think Vegeta's coming back."

Goku stopped lifting his fingers to his forehead, absorbing this information. Vegeta... returning? He grinned, turning around to King Kai as he enthusiastically said, "Wow, Vegeta's really coming back? This is great!"

All of the Kais fell back in shock as Gregory laughed and Bubbles scratched his head in confusion. What they were afraid of, the Saiyan saw as a chance to have more competition. He hoped that Vegeta had become stronger after eight years of intergalactic training. Maybe he would finally have an equal, seeing as it was impossible that Vegeta would have become stronger than him. Excited and completely forgetting about Chi-Chi, he asked after releasing the blue Kai, "Where is he? I want to go see him! I'd almost forgotten about him, though I hope he's stronger that Uub is. Uub's strong, but I still beat him. I want a challenge!"

Kibito Kai, still ashamed from being chewed out by the older Kai earlier, explained with a certain meekness, "Goku! You can't just go meet him - that's disturbing the order of the universe!" He hated using those words, almost verbatim from the mouth of North Kai, but he had to. The last thing he needed was for the two Saiyans to get back together, and that was the only excuse he could think of.

However, King Kai smiled slyly at the purple Kai's discomfort. He approached Goku again and said, "It's not messing with the order of the universe if you go, Goku, seeing as you're not a Kai." Kibito Kai glared at him as he continued, "In fact, I can give you the exact coordinates to his location if you want. Yes, yes, I can..."

King Kai simpered, satisfied by the purple Kai's annoyance. Anything to keep one-upping that no-good Supreme Kai... However, Elder Kai crossed his arms and, looking up from the fainted maid, said, "Don't do anything rash. Goku, Vegeta will come, I can tell you. I think you should talk to your wife first, though. It sounds as if you haven't come home for dinner on time one too many times..."

King Kai's mouth hung ajar, realizing that these two Kais didn't even realize that Goku wasn't a married man anymore. It would have been another thing to hold over them, though seeing the way that Goku was nodding, it didn't seem as if he knew that he wasn't married, either. The blue Kai stared in amazement at Goku's ignorance. No matter how many times he was told something, he would forget. They had talked about it for over an hour! In King Kai's mind, it must have been one too many blows to the head that had given him such a faulty memory.

Goku replied to Elder Kai's command, "You're right! I almost forgot about Chi-Chi!" And with that, he placed his fingers to his forehead and teleported.

Both Kibito Kai and King Kai watched the spot Goku vanished from, their mouths gaping at the sudden departure, until they heard a round of hoarse laughter. They turned to see Elder Kai kneeling next to the woman, rubbing his hands together and muttering, "Now let's see what I can do to wake you up."

King Kai shook his head. He hoped that Goku knew what he was doing by trying to talk to Chi-Chi.


	19. A Woman's Duty

**I'll just say that I can't mess with you readers anymore.**

Chi-Chi continued sitting outside on the front doorstep, her face buried in her hands in thought. It would be crazy to assume that Goku had finally returned. That was illogical. Impossible. But Piccolo wasn't one to assume things, and it was almost always true if the the words came from his mouth. She couldn't help but doubt the Namekian, though. Nothing fell into place.

Why would Goku return after being gone for so long? He may have finished training with Uub, but she still always thought that he would move on to other forms of training. It wasn't as though he had always put himself forth as a family man. Sure, he loved the kids, but he never took the time to cook for them or clean the house. Getting him to drive had been a challenge in itself. And he almost always refused to do anything with her, insisting on training. The idea of her training with him wasn't even ever suggested because, according to the Saiyan, she wasn't a good enough training partner. She was weak enough to be injured, but she still wouldn't mind getting out of the house every once in a while and delivering a few round-house kicks straight to his head to release her pent-up anger.

He had always wondered why she was so angry all the time, but there were many reasons. He scared her, risking his life for so many others. He had time for the rest of the world, but he couldn't stick around for two minutes to listen to some sound advice instead of taking the word of one of his friends that never once wanted an education. She used to yell at him a lot, but she had rights to. It had been twice that he had died in battle, and he didn't want to make it a third time. It wasn't even the fact that he spared his life in battle that angered her; it was his abandoning her for seven years after Cell killed him. That had been a horrible time, trying to raise the children. He was lucky that he had only had one day on Earth, or Chi-Chi would have made that day worse than Frieza could. But she had tried showing him how nice life was actually living. Of course, it wasn't her that he had listened to; it was the world.

It angered her that he only came back to defeat a villain, not for her or, especially, his sons. Goten had grown up without a father for the first seven years of his life, some of the most important time to build relationships within a family. Gohan had fared well, though it was clear that, without his father, he had changed. He had still been a sweet boy, though there was a coldness, a resentment, that she knew had grown inside of him in this time. And, after killing Buu, Goku had promised her that they would be a family again. Of course, that stupid Saiyan wasn't able to keep that promise.

When his children were reaching or already in adulthood, he had decided that it was time to abandon his family, and without any warning. Chi-Chi clenched her fists at the thought - it was obvious that he knew he would run into Uub at the tournament beforehand. He hadn't told her, however, which was what hurt most. He didn't ask for her feelings on the sudden change; he probably didn't think she would mind. He probably thought that he was doing everybody a favor by leaving, by training the worlds' next defender instead of his sons. He abandoned their family for a pupil.

He had never helped with their financial needs, except for when he occasionally won a tournament. He had never tried elevating their family's social status by getting a decent job, instead devoting his life to himself. Most importantly, however, he had never formed emotional bonds with his children. The closest that Goku and Gohan had ever gotten was that year in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber training against Cell. When Goku was back permanently on Earth, Gohan was newly married and trying to build his own family. As for Gohan, Goku spent time training him, though they didn't do the father-son activities he had done with Gohan when he was a younger man. There was no fishing, there was no laying in the pastures. There was nothing but fighting, reminding her of the relationship that Trunks and Vegeta had kept. It had been distant, and it wasn't the type of relationship Chi-Chi wanted her family to have.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cough at the doorway, a small, young woman standing there. Chi-Chi turned around, frustrated by her own mind, as the woman asked irritably, "Have you seen Alexi? She told me she was coming down to get a glass of water, and she never came back up." As Chi-Chi shook her head curtly, the maid leaned against the doorway and sighed, giving up, "I guess she'll come back sooner or later. She was telling me about the man she'd seen." Thinking for a brief second, she added, "Maybe we should go back inside. It's kind of chilly, and that man might be hiding in the bushes."

Chi-Chi stood up, wondering if the man was Goku. She demanded, standing over the maid just as Piccolo had stood over her just minutes ago, "Tell me what she said about the man. Did she give a description?"

Shocked by this sudden assertion, the maid only said, "Not really. She didn't get a great look at him; he had black, spiky hair, and he was tall, but that's all I know." The maid then backed away, seeing the color in the woman's face fade away. She didn't realize that Chi-Chi's ex-husband fit that description perfectly.

"Go inside," Chi-Chi ordered, turning her back to the maid. "I need some time to myself." She was still standing as the maid slipped back into the house, closing the door behind her. Then, with an intensity that hadn't come over her in a long time, she wept.

After a minute of crying, she rubbed her face in her sleeve, collecting tears that had slid down her face. She looked around her, recomposing herself before one of the neighbors spotted her. Then, as she turned to go back into the house, she heard a rustling come from the bushes. Curiously, she wondered if, perhaps the man was hiding in the bushes. Perhaps he was hiding in the bushes and laughing at her, crying for nothing.

Her fury gained wind as she marched towards the bushes and pushed them aside aggressively. To her disappointment, there was no Goku hiding in the bushes. There was no target to kick straight in the jaw to release her anger, unless she wanted to use her martial art techniques on the tree nearby. But she didn't want to settle for a tree, as the tree had done nothing to harm her. She wasn't even sure that she could fight with her old age, but she would still settle for nothing less than Goku to serve as her punching bag. She needed to teach that man how to treat a woman, as he had never had a mother to teach him.

Still mulling over how she would punish Goku for being a horrible husband, she barely heard a shrill shriek from the mansion breaking her thought process. She ran up to the house as quickly as possible and grabbed her rifle, which had been laying against a wooden post. She had a hunch, and she hoped it was right. She wanted to find Goku and give him the beating of his life, teaching him as thoroughly as possible to never leave a woman to her own devices.

* * *

The moment he lifted his fingers from his forehead, Goku noticed a gasp of surprise come from behind him. He whipped around, seeing another maid, this one of a slighter build than the other. He could feel her rapid breaths and hear her heartbeats increase steadily, making a jump up as he neared her, his hands held out in a gesture of peace. Even though the two maids looked different, they were certainly very similar in one aspect: they both had remarkable lung capacities, as Goku found out as she stayed rooted to the spot, screaming her head off. The noise was even worse with this one, and he felt as if his sensitive Saiyan eardrums would burst if she didn't quit with the high-pitched cry.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, she took her noise elsewhere by retreating down the stairwell, yelling hoarsely, "Mrs. Kahn! Mrs. Kahn!" Goku considered coming after the girl, but after he heard the front door slam open, he knew it was too late to run down there without being seen. His only other choice would be to teleport out of the house and to a safe place, but he didn't want to abandon his one chance to mend things with Chi-Chi. She was his wife, and he didn't want to openly show his fear of her.

Uncertain of what to do, Goku stepped back, waiting for the women to return. He heard two bodies clumsily make their ways up the stairs, one whose feet were certainly lighter and more jittery from nerves. The other footsteps were slower and more dutiful, more determined. That had to have been Chi-Chi, who was closer to him than the other girl. He could smell his wife, bringing back pleasant memories from years ago. These thoughts vanished, however, once he saw her.

Her short, black hair was disheveled, and her eyes were a pinkish red, as if she had spent a lot of her night sobbing. Her facial expression countered this with her eyebrows contorted angrily and her nostrils flaring. Her lips were pressed together with rage, and he could see her shaking with fury. It was then that his eyes trailed down as she appeared over the steps, and he saw a rifle in her hands. A rifle.

Goku laughed nervously as he noticed the gun was pointed straight at him. He hadn't know Chi-Chi to be a very good aim, so he was more worried for the health of the girl behind her than he was for himself. As for himself, he thought she knew that a bullet wouldn't scrape his skin, if it even got that far. She was too blind, however, with a building fury that she had forgotten all logic and only knew that she was going to get revenge on Goku for all of the things he had ever done to her. It was all that she could do when upset like this.

The first bullet was aimed straight for his head, but he caught it easily. Chi-Chi seethed as the maid gasped in horror, wondering exactly what Goku was. Chi-Chi was not so impressed, however, and continued plowing forward. She reloaded the gun quickly, taking another shot with it. Goku, again, caught this one. He had decided that it would be better to catch them than let them destroy Chi-Chi's beautiful paintings lining the walls of the hallways, seeing as she would never forgive him if one of the pieces of art were destroyed. So this process continued with the third and fourth bullets, Chi-Chi's clenching her teeth more tightly with each failed shot. When Goku was finally backed into the wall at the intersection of two hallways, he considered running down the path opposite Chi-Chi's bedroom, but he realized that this foolishness needed to end before Chi-Chi destroyed her own house. It was ridiculous of her to think that this would get the two of them anywhere, so Goku approached her.

The maid fled to the stairs, but Chi-Chi remained still, refusing to budge. She quickly reloaded the gun a last time with a maniacal gleam to her eyes, aiming it straight for his heart. Distracted by Chi-Chi screaming from desperation, Goku didn't catch the bullet until it bounced off of his chest. Then, with all five in one hand, he crushed the bullets into powder, allowing it to trickle to the floor. Chi-Chi gaped at the pile before sliding down to her knees, relinquishing her rifle. She had accepted defeat after remembering Goku's power. It would be impossible for her to make him pay for everything he had done to her through physical means, she realized. That still didn't stop her, however, from slapping Goku across the face when he bent down to help her up, though this only resulted in a bruised palm and a chuckling Saiyan.


	20. Recognizing Heartbreak

**Poor Goku. I'll admit that he deserves what comes, but it's still sad.**

Piccolo had only been gone for five minutes before he felt a large force of energy appear behind him again. He growled, wondering if Goku had already reappeared. He doubted that Chi-Chi had lied to him, but humans couldn't be trusted. Some of them went out of their way to be secretive, getting around the truth any way possible.

While turning to go back, he heard a nasally voice call into his head, "Piccolo! Piccolo! I need to talk to you!"

Piccolo sighed with disgust, not eager to talk to the Kai at the moment. With the most respect he could muster, he replied, "Yes? What is it, King Kai?"

"I need to talk to you!" the Kai exclaimed, a snicker hiding in his voice.

Suspended in air, Piccolo crossed his arms, annoyed. "Can I get back to you later?" the Namekian asked, certain that the Kai could spare five minutes to allow him enough time to head back to Chi-Chi's place and make sure that Goku wasn't there. But the Kai was persistent.

"No!" he yelled, startling the Namekian. King Kai laughed, "I need you to head back to Kami's Lookout; there's something I need you to do there."

"Like what?" Piccolo asked suspiciously, wary of how the Kai didn't specify exactly what he needed. He felt as if the Kai was up to something, but he couldn't outright disobey him. As obnoxious as the Kai could be, he was still a Kai. Of course, he wasn't as important a Kai as the Supreme Kai, though he was still highly regarded in the community of martial artists.

"I'll tell you when you get there," King Kai said, cutting the communication off between them. Piccolo grunted, stuck between deciding whether to fly back to Chi-Chi's or to obey the Kai's orders. He chose the latter of the choices, willing to force himself to finish King Kai's task as quickly as possible.

Back on King Kai's planet, the blue Kai sighed contentedly, certain that he had done a good deed. By providing Piccolo with a distraction, it would surely allow Goku enough time to say what he need to say without interference. He glanced towards Elder Kai, still attempting to revive the fainted woman. Now all he needed to think of was a distraction: some small thing to have Piccolo do at Kami's Lookout to prevent the Namekian from becoming dubious of his motives. His eyes trailed from Elder Kai to the woman to Gregory to Bubbles, finally landing on Kibito Kai. King Kai smirked, knowing that the oh-so-venerated Supreme Kai would finally come to good use.

* * *

There was silence. The maid stared, bewildered, at the sight of her master's wife kneeling before another man, turned away from her and thus concealing her expression. On the other hand, the maid could see the tall man's shock as he rose back up after being struck across the face. The pause was short-lived, however, as the man then began a round of laughter, more sincere than she had ever heard before. The maid had winced, as the slap had reverberated with a large cracking sound through the air, though the man didn't seem to be affected. Instead, it was Mrs. Kahn that had injured her hand.

She stepped futher down the stairs until only her head was poking out above the landing, watching the two of them interact. The tall man, fairly handsome and young-looking, seemed to be in an all-around good mood, but her master's wife could only spit words of rage at them. It was bizarre seeing Mrs. Kahn stand back up unsteadily, pushing her forefinger against the stranger's chest assertively, yelling at him. She wondered if Mr. Kahn knew about this man.

Oh, what the rest of the maids would think when she told them... With these thoughts of gossip, she hurried down the stairs quietly and began knocking on doors of women slumbering deeply.

* * *

Chi-Chi couldn't believe it. She had slapped Goku, only to have it backfire. Instead of inflicting any pain at all upon the idiot, she had just managed to damage her hand severely. He had been quiet for only a few seconds before laughing at her, holding his stomach as he stood back up, shaking his head at this small triumph. And, to her further outrage, he kept laughing as she yelled, "Goku, if you don't think I'm going to kill you, you're in for a surprise!"

She poked him firmly with her good hand's finger, but he just brushed it aside and said, "Come on, Chi-Chi, you have to admit that was pretty funny." It wasn't until she began punching at his stomach furiously that he finally stopped chuckling, losing his breath, and held her away from himself by her shoulders. She then exhaled slowly, angry that he was preventing her from using him as a punching bag. In the back of her mind, she noted that it was probably better for her to stop before she embarrassed herself by getting hurt again, though the rage was still in her eyes. It would be nearly impossible for her to forgive him, especially as he said condescendingly, "You know, Chi-Chi, your anger's going to get the best of you some day." That only broke another dam.

Even from her distance, she could still deliver powerful kicks to his side, only to bruise the tops of her feet. After a few seconds of following this tactic, she finally slowed down, realizing that she wasn't in the shape she used to be. She knew she was only hurting herself by trying to kick the monkey, but she couldn't help it. There was some sick joy in the idea of being able to teach Goku a lesson.

After Goku had enough of Chi-Chi kicking him, he removed one hand from her shoulder and used it to grab her extended leg, causing her to lose her balance and fall on her back. Chi-Chi yelped with pain as Goku said quite matter-of-factly, "You haven't been training very much lately. Either that, or you're getting old."

"That's it!" she screamed, climbing back on her feet after Goku released her. "That's it! I'm really going to kill you!" Goku watched curiously as she moved back a few paces, her hand over her beating heart as if to calm it down. She muttered, her voice dying from lack of breath, "I'm going to kill you. I really am." Then, for the first time in many years, she allowed her fingers to curve in a relaxed state, placing one hand behind her head, the other held before her. She put a foot forward, using the other to support her weight, and stood there, allowing her heart rate to slow down. Goku was amazed, seeing her assume the old fighting stance they had once used as a sign of respect in tournaments.

Goku blinked a few times before letting his body relax in a similar manner, having not used this pose in years. He smiled, noticing Chi-Chi's attempt at hiding her own laughter. It was ridiculous. This whole meeting had been ridiculous.

Deciding to be a fair man, he allowed the woman to take the first strike, saying, "Here, Chi-Chi, I'll give you a freebie." He stood still, listening to her heart rate increase at the taunt. She definitely was angry, and he wasn't completely sure why. What had gotten her so worked up?

She lunged forward and bared her nails menacingly. She approached him swiftly, her bones aching from her previous attempts of assassination, but before she could reach his innocent face, she dropped her hands and merely bounced off of him, feeling woozy. The whole process of anger and fighting was making her lightheaded, as out-of-shape as she had become. She placed her hand to her forehead and backed away from the Saiyan. She would have collapsed to the ground had the Saiyan not reached out and caught her, bringing her closer to him. He had allowed Chi-Chi a bit of fun, but he knew that this was too much for her old body to handle.

Chi-Chi tried pushing herself out of his grasp. At first, Goku thought this form of protest was to prove that she was strong enough to handle herself, but after a few desperate attempts at escape, Chi-Chi murmured with a tiredness in her breath, "Let me go, Goku. I'm a married woman." That was when Goku remembered exactly who he was and where he stood Chi-Chi's life. He wasn't her husband anymore. She wasn't his wife.

Goku gulped, releasing the woman on to the floor. She gasped, startled, as she hit the floor, making Goku wince. But he figured that it was probably better for him to lose the habit of trying to help her; the more he did, the angrier she would become. And as much as he loved her when she was angry, he knew that it wasn't right for him to love her. She was married and rich, everything she had ever wanted to be.


	21. Dormant Thoughts Aroused

**And the story goes on!**

"I've got a plan."

Those were words that Kibito Kai feared coming from the mouth of the blue Kai, especially when he was looking at him so mischievously. Whatever this plan was, he was almost positive that he fit into it somehow. And he didn't like the idea of being one of North Kai's pawns, especially when it was in a game with rules he obviously didn't understand. In all of his life, he had never been beaten down by an inferior Kai, but it seemed as if all of the natural laws had been bent in favor of the blue Kai all in one day.

Kibito Kai crossed his arms, prepared to point out obvious flaws in whatever North Kai was about to propose. Elder Kai looked up temporarily, still trying to awaken the maid. Gregory sat, interested, on Bubbles' shoulder, complaining to himself about how he never got to come up with ideas, while the monkey absentmindedly scratched his rear end. King Kai exhaled deeply before explaining, "Well, I suppose it's time to confess something to you two: Chi- Chi remarried a few years ago, not long after Goku left to train with Uub." The younger purple Kai looked up, vaguely interested. If the blue Kai wasn't just making this up, it did make for a rather intriguing subject to talk about.

"So Goku's not married to Chi-Chi?" Elder Kai clarified, stroking his chin while leaning back against the mowed grass. As King Kai shook his head to affirm his question, Elder Kai continued, "But why is he going to talk to her now? To harrass her?"

"No, but I don't have time to explain all of the details. So listen up!" This last command drew the attention of everybody further, instilling a silence amongst the planet's inhabitants. They all waited for him to speak, and when he did speak, he spoke quickly and with purpose. "Piccolo doesn't want Goku to talk to Chi-Chi for reasons even I'm not completely sure about, but I just managed to distract him. He's heading back to Kami's Lookout, which should give Goku ample time to work things out with Chi-Chi. In the meantime, however, we have to think of something to keep Piccolo busy. If nobody else has any ideas, I'll tell you mine."

As nobody offered any suggestions, King Kai plowed on, "I'm not sure how my plan of distraction is going to work, but we'll see. Kibito Kai, I need you to meet him at Kami's Lookout. I'd go myself, but for some reason, Piccolo doesn't respect me as much as he does you." Then, under his breath, he added, "He must not be a very good judge of character, as I'm the most respectable Kai here, but oh well..." He raised his voice, ignoring a peeved Kibito Kai to explain further, "You'll talk to him about how great you are, yadda yadda, and all of that other stuff you always bring up to every big Kai meeting held each millennium. Just keep blabbering, and if we need a bigger distraction, I'll think something up. But you got it?"

Kibito Kai scowled, puffing his chest up and saying, "I'm not doing it! It's a stupid plan, and I doubt it'll work. I'm sure that I can think of something better."

He hadn't noticed Elder Kai stand up behind him, slapping the younger purple Kai across the back of the head. "Don't be such a party pooper!" he chastised, Kibito Kai cowering in pain. "Just follow the plan; it could be worse."

"But, Elder, he's a lower Kai... I shouldn't have to listen to him..."

Elder Kai waved off Kibito Kai's protests, saying, "I don't care. Right now, it's the only plan we've got to thank Goku, for which I must do for this little favor he's done for me." He smiled dreamily, staring at the fainted maid. Then, snapping out of his thoughts, he said impatiently, "And right now, you're keeping me from trying to wake up the sleeping beauty! So go to Earth and distract the Namekian! It's a lot more normal seeing you on the planet than the rest of us, especially seeing as we're both dead! So if you don't want to end up with a halo over your head, too, I'd suggest you get a move on!"

Kibito Kai's shoulder sagged as he argued, sounding like a small child, "Elder, I really don't..."

"Don't disobey my orders!"

"But..."

"I will take none of that!"

Kibito Kai only sighed, sending a last glare towards the snickering blue Kai before transporting out of sight.

* * *

Samuel Kahn began choking on a strain of saliva dribbling down his throat in his sleep, but he was too exhausted from his medicine to be able to sit up. After a few spasms of coughing, however, he finally mustered the strength to bend his upper body off of the bed and turn the bedside lamp on. Then, with his mouth hidden in his night sleeve, he reached forward to grab a glass of water off of a tiny table carrying an array of books. He swung his head back and gulped the rest of the water down, exhausted from this action. It seemed as though the drugs had been taking a heavier effect upon him than they used to, as he found it to be even harder to do small tasks such as these.

It was then, as he was sitting up, that he noticed Chi-Chi wasn't lying in bed next to him. He frowned, turning his fragile head towards the clock. It was nearly eight o'clock, which meant that she might have still been doing dishes. He hadn't been asleep for very long, so he considered falling back asleep, but he heard something to make him jump.

He heard the final gunshot.

His mouth was cracked, slightly ajar and crooked, as he listened to the noise. He wasn't sure if his medication was simply making him imagine sounds, but he then heard a loud cracking of flesh on flesh, making him wince. He knew that would be a sore spot in the morning for whoever was getting beat up. He blinked and heard an unfamiliar man's voice, and then a very familiar woman shrieking death threats. He smiled, certain that she could defend herself, especially as he noted that rifle being gone from her bedside. Yes, and if that failed, she had years of martial arts to fall back on, but he was certain that whoever it was wouldn't be able to get past her dangerous shooting. It must have been somebody intimidating, however, if Chi-Chi really pulled a gun out on them. She had always threatened using it on the maids who broke her china, but she had never actually used the rifle, except for against rodents infesting the house.

Yes, this certainly was very strange, but Samuel couldn't find the strength or will to pull himself out of bed. Not even as he heard more of that man's chuckling and more of Chi-Chi's fruitless screams. But when he thought about it, he knew that they weren't a good combination of sounds. It didn't sound as if the rifle shots had done much to subdue Chi-Chi's victim, unfortunately. He felt too light-headed to be bothered, however. If there was any real trouble, he was certain one of the maids would get him.

He knew that Chi-Chi was a woman that could handle herself, which had been one of the many reasons he loved her. So with these doubts cleared from his mind, Samuel rolled to his side, falling asleep again.

* * *

Goku averted his eyes from Chi-Chi's face. He had listened to her, but she was giving him a puzzled expression, as if he had done something wrong by letting her drop to the floor. He supposed that he could have set her down gently, but it had been a spur-of-the-moment action. There had been no time to think; the moment she reminded him that he wasn't her husband, he had to release her. The slight teasing that had always been between them ceased immediately. Holding her in his arms like he had would have been as bad as holding Bulma in such a way, only worse. Bulma was family. With Chi-Chi, he wasn't sure if he was still considered a part of her family.

He clenched his fists together, his forehead furrowing in thought. This was more awkward than he had anticipated this meeting being, though he supposed there would be some uneasiness between the two of them. He had grown up from his carefree childhood, realizing that matters weren't so easily settled amongst adults. If only Chi-Chi would stop gazing up at him in such a surprised way, perhaps he wouldn't feel as uncomfortable. But she had her lips slightly apart in awe, her color flushed from its reddish hue. He had done something to offend her, and he wasn't sure what. All he had done was follow her orders.

Chi-Chi was shocked. Goku had followed her orders for once in his life. He was now standing above her, looking quite helpless, as if waiting for her next command. Chi-Chi could only shake her head, continuing to stare at the Saiyan. He was a different man when he wasn't her husband. The familiar twinkle in his black eyes had dulled, and his face had fallen, realizing that she was with another man. She had lost her anger all at once, the feeling replaced by regret. She wished she hadn't come down on Goku so hard; he hadn't even remembered that she was remarried.

He had lost that playfulness that she had always associated with the man since their childhood together, when she used to dream of marrying him. He was keeping distant, and she knew that conflicting feelings were battling inside of his heart. She had fought that same battle earlier that night. All she could do was watch the Saiyan, her eyes drifting from him and back down to her hands. Without looking up at Goku, she muttered, "We need to talk." But Goku didn't reply, instead crossing his arms and examining a piece of artwork on the wall, as if intrigued by it. But Chi-Chi, after living with him for so long, knew that he was only thinking, even if it was in several, individual, short thought processes. He did this seldomly, but when he did, Chi-Chi knew that the man did have ideas. She decided not to interrupt him, as doing so might make him forget something important, so she waited on the floor patiently.

Finally, he turned towards the his old wife, his face showing stress as he said, "Come with me, Chi-Chi. Just one last night. I need to talk to you."

"Goku..." Chi-Chi protested, blushing. Of all of the things he could have said, she hadn't expected him to make an offer like that. She placed a hand to her reddening cheek, finding the thought hard to resist, but she knew she was married. She was married...

"Not to Mt. Paozu," Goku explained further, alleviating her qualms. She glanced back up at the Saiyan, who was now holding his hand out for her to take. "I think we should have a family conference. I haven't gotten to see my sons for eight years, and I think it's fair to tell them what's happening."

Chi-Chi's face fell, hoping that she would have a chance to talk to Goku alone. But that wasn't how the Saiyan worked, and it never had been. If he made a decision, he wanted the whole world to know. So she agreed with a murmur, adding, "I think they will want to see you, Goku. I think that's fair to everybody."

Goku nodded, silent and waiting. Once she grabbed his hand reluctantly, he pulled her to her feet. Then, with a spontaneity she hadn't expected, he threw her into the air and caught her in his arms. He smirked slightly as she noticed finally a small cluster of gathering maids at the top of the stairs, watching the pair of them curiously. She was speechless by his holding her, if not just for one more night, so Goku told them, his tone lightening a little, "We won't be gone long, so don't wake her husband."

He placed his fingers on his forehead and disappeared, a hiccup of fear from Chi-Chi the last sound the two of them left. The maids all blinked, in awe at what just happened. Then, one-by-one, they all began giggling, whispering the next batch of rumors for the men coming to work the next day. They thought that Chi-Chi knew what she was getting into, but she didn't. Only Goku was sure of what they were doing, and he knew that he was set on only one thing: he was going to get his wife back.


	22. Bar and Dreams

**Sorry for taking so long! Exams are coming around, unfortunately, giving me no free time. Anyways, this chapter was originally about twice as long, but I've decided to split it into two. Just be warned, expect a little more Trunks character development next chapter, too, because of decision; this is completely relevant to Goku, so don't be discouraged.**

The East Supreme Kai landed steadily on two feet, having appeared on the edge of Kami's Lookout. He breathed in the air, which was far cleaner than he had remembered it being on Earth, and marched forward with confidence. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that he would be able to make North Kai's plan work. At least it wasn't a harebrained scheme like most of his other ideas; this one actually made a bit of sense. He didn't mind helping Goku out for a night, and it wasn't as though he had more pressing matters at the moment to tend to. As much as he hated admitting it, he had fallen a bit behind on the job, and he felt as though he had to do something to help Earth get back on its feet. He still wasn't sure exactly how allowing Goku to talk to his ex-wife would help the planet and possibly the universe, but a feeling in his gut urged him on. Nice people deserved nice things, and as far as he knew, Goku was a nice person.

He waited in the dark of night, adjusting his eyes from the bright day on North Kai's planet, standing rooted to his spot and waiting. He grimaced slightly as he watched the last light of the large palace-like building go out. It was going to be a lonely wait, he was sure. The only thing he could find remarkable about Earth was how preoccupied its inhabitants were with talking; on the occasion he came, he always wanted to engage in conversation with somebody, whether it be a human or whatever other being lived there those days.

He pushed some of his long, white hair out of eyes, taking a seat on one of the many benches in the garden. He readjusted his position in the bench so that he had his elbow in a little nook between his body and the back of the bench, resting his hands on his chest. His head fit nicely on the bench arm as he lay, waiting; all he could do was wait for Piccolo's energy force to appear, if it ever did. He closed his eyes, the Kibito in him telling himself to stay alert, just in case. But the East Supreme Kai portion of his mind dozed off, not suspecting a thing to happen with this small nap.

* * *

Trunks had, after talking to Suno for so long, decided to make a dash around the world as quickly as he could. But the closer he approached West City, home of the Capsule Corporation, the more afraid he became of meeting his mother again, becoming a brother again, and having a father that wasn't even his own. So, after gazing at the Capsule Corporation building dimly lit by street lights, he fled from the town, knowing only one other place to go: Kami's Lookout.

His journey was slow, as the vigor of this trip had worn away after reaching his home and realizing that he didn't want to return. So he skimmed ponds and hovered above herds of sleeping cattle, deciding to amuse himself along the way. He had lost his determination, but he knew that he still needed to talk to somebody. He wanted to talk to Goku, but he had long lost the feel for ki, keeping him from sensing the Saiyan. He wanted to talk to somebody by which he could remember his father, and he was certain that wouldn't be Yamcha.

The purple-haired man released a sigh after stopping on the edge of a red canyon, peering at the village below. He wanted a place to rest until day so he could think over matters a little, but all of the small, wooden shanties were dark. He slowly descended and found one building still open, and that was the local pub. On the surface of his mind, he wondered if he could find a bed upstairs to sleep on, but he knew that deep inside, he really just wanted some civilized company to listen to. It had been a while since he had settled himself with civilians, but he had always enjoyed hearing their ramblings on the weather and news. Trunks slipped his hand into his holed pocket, hoping for a bit of Zeni, but his fingers continued their thorough search with no luck.

It looked as if he'd have to get his meal and drink free.

He landed tenderly on the ground, stirring up some of the reddish dust beneath him. Then he walked with his back poised into the the saloon, pushing the swing-doors aside.

Business went on as usual as he entered, nobody paying mind to the man dressed in clothes fit for a snowstorm. It wasn't until he took one of the stools at the bar that he glanced around, noticing that he was oddly dressed; the rest of the men were wearing flannel shirts and boots. When he turned back around, he saw the bartender, an old man, coughing to catch his attention. Trunks thought for a second before deciding, "Just get me anything."

The bartender nodded, setting down an empty glass and grabbing a smaller one from under the counter. Trunks examined the rest of his company at the bar, noticing three men dressed like the rest of them. Nothing particularly interesting. Trunks' eyes tracked the wall instead, looking at an enormous number of posters hanging on the pine walls. There was a framed, decrepit portrait of a blond-haired woman looking aggressively at the camera, the caption saying, 'Launch. Reward: 10,000 Zeni'. Another frame contained a few reviews about the saloon, also old, and others contained photographs of the day's politicians and celebrities that had stopped by the small town.

Once the glass was set down before him, he tore his gaze from the wall and bent his head down to sip at it, the bartender already back to tending another new customer who looked exactly the same as the rest. He listened to the troupe of men next to him turn their talk from boot polish to fighting. He ears reddened, hidden by the flaps of his hat Suno had lent him, as he heard them talk about how Mr. Satan would be absolutely terrifying to be against. At first the thought made him laugh, but then one of the men said that he heard a rumor of the great champion dying. Trunks' smirk was short-lived at this thought; everybody was becoming so old. A little over seven years had been a long time to be away from home, and he wondered what other changes this time had brought about.

They talked of a few wrestlers in the area, none of which were of Trunks' concern; he was hoping that they would bring up somebody he knew personally, besides the old fart of a champion. However, their conversation strayed further and further away from that topic, and one of them brought up the Red Ribbon Army. It was something he didn't know much about, except for that those androids his future self had fought were part of the organization.

"There is something mighty suspicious with the Red Ribbon Army," one of the men said, leaning against the counter, releasing a hiccup.

Another man agreed, adding, "There's gonna be an uprising, I can tell you. Kind of exciting, if you ask me."

"More like terrifying," the third man said before guzzling another canister of beer, holding it out over the counter for a refill.

"There ain't nothing an army can do to us; if we can take down a bunch of androids, what's the difference with a bunch of humans?"

"Numbers, if you ask me."

The first man shook his head, explaining, "Technology's advanced a lot in the last twenty years. That's the big difference."

"I think they started around the time this bar opened," the newcomer said, joining the open conversation. "Fifty years ago, wasn't it?"

"I don't buy that they can come back."

"Beats me."

The new man persisted, the lack of alcohol in his system letting him think more freely, "I bet they will. Do you remember what the media said? They said they'd always be around! Even if the whole organization is destroyed, there will always be those rare uprisings that'll start the whole business again!"

"Cheers!" the second man said, downing another beer as his face reddened. "Cheers to everybody!"

Ignoring him, the first man leaned in on the group, Trunks still managing to catch his words. "I've heard some things," he started, slapping his hand on the counter, "that would make your hair curl. Apparently, the Red Ribbon Army has spies in our own government! Crazy! And they're not just janitors and people like that; they're high-up officials."

"Impossible!" the newcomer said, his mouth dropping at the information. "I can't believe that!"

He still listened as the first man continued, "It's true! I'm sure it is! There was somebody who told me that the other night I came here. He's in the government, just one of the chauffeurs, but he still hears stuff you wouldn't dream of! There's a man, I think his name's Walter or something like that, but I know his last name's Kahn, I know it! Anyways, this Kahn fellow has connections you wouldn't dream of; he's not in the government business, but he's still got tons of money! It's ridiculous! He has connections in the government, even though he could never prove that he earned that money fairly! If you ask me," and with these words, he lowered his voice to just above a whisper, "if you ask me, I'd say that he's a crook! I think he got it from the Red Ribbon Army!"

Trunks sat up on his stool, intrigued. He could remember that name, Kahn, from when he was still a teenager, when his mom was building herself even higher in her business status. She used to try making connections with important people, and that Kahn had come over at least once a month. Of course, Trunks hadn't paid him much mind, as he usually was off fighting Goten, but his ignorant self had still noted something odd about the man. He had been polite, trying to give candy to the two boys and even pushing some off on the stubborn, bratty Bulla. But then they would all run off, deciding that businessmen were not fun at all. And they weren't.

Even though he had been fairly stiff and fake, he didn't feel as if the man had been a conman. He hardly knew him, but it still seemed odd that his mother would associate herself with crooks. She had always been a decent judge of character, until she decided to remarry... Trunks cringed at the thought, his fingers beginning to crack the glass subconsciously. He bent his head further down in his scarf, just staring at the splintering glass angrily. He didn't want to come home and have Yamcha as his father. He wanted to have his father as his father...

His memories of his father were tainted, some seeming better than others, some worse. But there was still a longing for that life, one where he had been pushed so hard. Nobody had ever cared so much for him to cause him suffering and make him see the world for what it was. His mother had always coaxed him, putting things in simpler terms and coating them with sugar. But his father, Vegeta, had always been blunt enough to tell him that he stunk, and that was what he needed. He needed to be pushed.

Their most memorable times were in the Gravitational Room together. The would live together for a few days before Trunks would pass out, but Vegeta didn't care; he simply trained around the boy, acknowledging that Saiyans became stronger with each close death. And if Trunks had died, his father was convinced that he didn't even have a right to live for being so weak. Whenever Trunks came around, a yelling match would go on for hours until his mother dragged him out, her blue hair frazzled. Then she would pull Trunks aside to his room, telling him to ignore Vegeta. But Trunks' rage would be too strong to even listen to these words.

It was always about two weeks after the incident that he became bored with sparring with Goten and studying, in which time he would return to the Gravitational Room's door and open it, giving no second thought as to what his father might do to him. But Vegeta always welcomed him back in with a grunt, ignoring the boy otherwise unless he wanted to fight. He had often wondered, especially when younger, if his father ever left that room. Now he knew he must have, or his mother wouldn't have allowed him to keep house there for so many years.

Trunks' shook his head at this memory, wanting his father back. Yamcha was in no physical shape to push him around. He didn't have the spine to yell at him. And with a spoiled boy like Trunks, that was what he needed. Over the past few years around the world, he had managed to train himself out of this trait, though this arrogance that had sprouted during his young childhood and bloomed as a teenager was too strong to be completely subdued. He knew that he would be too much for Yamcha to handle, which almost comforted him. Perhaps...


	23. Insane With Pride

**I'm sorry that my chapters have seemed kind of, well, depressing. I like constructive criticism that you all give me; I've tried making the characters a bit happier, but I'm having a bit of trouble. Right now the story's taking another dip, but it'll come back up. I promise.**

Trunks could easily kill Yamcha for his father. It wouldn't be difficult, seeing as the man was probably old and feeble, if he wasn't already dead. The man had never possessed strength close to his, which was a blatant advantage. He pressed his lips against the warm glass of drink at this thought, pondering over what to do. He wanted to be like his father: pitiless and cruel. His father was always so proud, and it wasn't until then that Trunks realized exactly why. His Saiyan heritage made him invincible, so why wouldn't he want to be proud?

He realized that he wasn't his father, however, as guilt washed over him. He couldn't imagine killing anybody, seeing as he never had; even as a thief he had never dreamed of killing his victims. But Yamcha was different, he supposed. Yamcha wasn't an innocent farmer or store clerk or bartender. No, he had committed a great crime against him, which had been tearing his family apart. That was something that he could never forgive the man for. Saiyans didn't care much for their relatives, and Trunks knew that the human half inside was speaking for him. He knew that his father would want to be avenged because Bulma belonged to him.

Trunks stood up abruptly, pushing the stool back and leaving the drink to seethe from the cracks in the glass. The bartender began yelling at him to stop and pay, but he ignored him. Trunks was determined to reach Kami's Lookout now. An odd idea, one that he hadn't thought about in years, passed over him; he could wish his father back to Earth so he could deal his own punishment out to Yamcha. Perhaps, he could even kill the man, something Trunks lacked the courage to do. He didn't want to stop by the Capsule Corporation for the Dragon Radar, but he was sure that Dende would know something about the Dragon Balls... He was the Guardian of Earth.

As he began making his way out of the door, ignoring the bartender's protests, he heard a deep voice boom from behind him, "Hey, kid." He turned around to see a stocky man sporting a large, black moustache approaching him, his arms crossed. "You do realize that you have to pay for that," the man continued, watching Trunks' every move, interested. Here was a fairly good-looking young man dressed in winter clothes. It was odd attire for such a hot climate; a man this strange was probably just confused, forgetting about payment.

Trunks hadn't forgotten to pay, however. He smiled, some of his arrogance from his childhood peering out of his new self, a brittle self to cover his old immaturity. With this facade of politeness he had been building up for years breaking away, he replied, "I don't have to pay for anything."

The man observed the cool confidence in his voice, a bit surprised, but not caught off-guard. He pulled a badge from his vest and said, "I'm the sheriff of this town, so you better watch it, buddy. It's dark outside, so you'd be better to just stay here and pay."

"I can do what I want, officer," was all that came out of Trunks' mouth as he stood in place, just watching the sheriff and swinging his dangling scarf back over his shoulder.

The sheriff walked closer, trying to make him nervous by changing the subject. "Those are some funny clothes," he said, pointing at Trunks' wool hat. "You didn't steal them, did you?"

"No, officer," Trunks curtly replied. "You can have them, though, if you want." And with those words, he began stripping himself of Suno's winter clothing, beginning with the coat.

The sheriff gulped, quickly pulling a pistol out of its holster on his belt and pointing it at the man. "Don't try any funny business! I'm armed!"

Trunks watched the pistol as he shrugged the coat off of his shoulders and pulled off the wool hat, allowing a ponytail of long, purple hair to tumble down off the top of his head. It had been so long since he had last cut it that the hair reached down his mid-back, making a few of the men at the bar wolf whistle, so drunk by now that they were openly calling him a woman. And that was when Trunks realized that the whole saloon had stopped its actions, watching the pair of them curiously. Trunks smirked, knowing that he was going to be humiliated for his father's memory. But these men didn't realize what his father always did after allowing a little laughing to ensue. He knew that his father would approve of this game. Finally, he would do something to make his father proud.

He ignored a few heckles as he kicked off the boots, and he saw the sheriff's arms begin quivering. "Stop it!" he said, his bold voice not showing his fear. "If you don't stop, I'm going to shoot!"

"Don't shoot, officer," he demanded, his hands raised as if guilty. "I haven't done a thing in the world to you." Trunks grinned devilishly, his holed socks exposed to the hardwood floor. Then, he did something to quiet the whole place and get the sheriff shooting at him, straight in the heart: he went Super Saiyan.

"Who is that?"

"What is that?"

"It's the Golden Fighter!"

"It's Mr. Satan!"

"She's beautiful!"

His hair had turned a bright yellow, not quite breaking the hairband, and his eyes became cerulean. His muscles had bulked up slightly, though he had never managed to become an Ascended Super Saiyan like his future self; that would have really killed the crowd. He stood there, taking each bullet shot at his chest with ease. The sheriff could only gasp as he saw the strange, glowing man approach him, and he dropped down to the floor. Never, in ten years, had he faced something as strange as this. He could only hang his head in shame, unable to protect the people of this small village.

Trunks bent down, the rest of the bar piling out of the doors by now, and picked up the tiny pistol the sheriff had dropped on the floor. He turned it in his large hands, examining it before tearing it apart. He glared at the man, immediately satisfied by these results. This was something his father would do, not Yamcha or his mother. Now he was becoming his father's living memory.

He held his hands cupped towards the man, extending his arms forward. He smirked, knowing that his father would be proud of him for not showing mercy to a man that had tried keeping him from what he wanted. Vegeta wouldn't have stood for a man preventing him from stealing, just as he wouldn't have stood for a man marrying his wife. He wanted to make his father proud; if he could do that, he knew that he would be able to face Yamcha and show him this same punishment. He knew that, by killing this man, he would finally achieve the satisfaction his life had lacked in the past eight years.

While the energy ball was building in his hands, he realized that his form of vengeance was crazy. By trying to take the life of a defenseless man, he was reliving another Saiyan, one of whom he had no respect for. Just as Broly had become insane with thoughts of Goku, he was becoming insane with thoughts of Yamcha. And he knew that, if he didn't stop this, soon the only word he would be able to scream would be 'Yamcha', and he didn't think the man deserved this high form of flattery. Trunks needed his senses, and losing them would only destroy his cunning father's memory.

The energy in his hands faded as he allowed his arms to fall back to his side. He was shaking slightly, his hands curling into fists. If he was ever going to get his father back, it had to be soon. He had completely forgotten about wanting to talk to Goku; now his only objective was returning to Kami's Lookout and getting those Dragon Balls.

* * *

Eighteen watched her sleeping husband from the chair in their room. They shared the top room of the Kame House along with their daughter, which had always perturbed the android. She knew that she should have allowed Marron to go to school like other children, following Chi-Chi's advice, but Krillin was too strong-headed. He said that she would be a fighter, but that hadn't worked out very well, and now their family ran on no income at all. They relied on the crazy Turtle Hermit to help them out financially, and it sickened her that he never felt obliged to. She shut her eyes, knowing that he was getting something in return for Marron and her staying there.

The android couldn't rest as her thoughts trailed from the pervert to a larger problem. She couldn't help but imagine that Goku would take desperate action to get Chi-Chi back; he was a Saiyan. They were all alike, with their twisted obsessions and relentless attempts. Even the half-Saiyans seemed to have some of this bred into them; she had noticed that with Gohan. When Pan had become very sick just a few years ago, he had hovered over her protectively and barked at threatening visitors. It had also been true more recently, as she noticed that every time he came over, he was constantly agitated by the noise of the Kame House. He sometimes just wandered off to the edge of the island for peace and quiet, but there was the rare occasion when he could be found yelling at Roshi or even Turtle.

She hadn't seen Goten or Bulla lately to observe this trait, and as for Trunks, she hadn't seen him in a good while. She only knew that this ability to possess unreasonable obsessions was a sick trait to be able to pass on to offspring because it was completely mental. It attacked from the inside of the brain out, until it imploded.

She couldn't help but fear that Goku, as kind as he had always been, would be attacked in this same manner. He had never posed a threat before, but when he lost something precious, she knew that he could become crazy. Krillin had always bragged that his death had brought about the first Super Saiyan, but Eighteen didn't take this lightly. According to Gohan, he had gone insane, only the whites of his eyes showing with that first transformation. Everybody laughed, but Eighteen would only stand in her familiar corner, pondering over what it meant. Nobody else could make the connection between him and Broly and every other Saiyan they had known, but she knew that they were all interlinked, just as androids were. Aside from Sixteen, they had all been aggressive, passive. The same breeds always had similar characteristics.

While her mind was ruminating the possibilities of what could happen, Krillin stirred in their bed. With an elbow propped up on the pillow, he lifted his head and asked, his words slurred together from fatigue, "Do you feel that?"

She glanced at her daughter, sleeping on the other bed, puzzled. Androids couldn't sense energy, which Krillin always forgot. She inquired, standing up from her seat and walking over towards her husband, "What is it, Krillin? Is somebody coming?"

Before he could reply, though, Eighteen stepped into the light from the lone window, hearing the front door swing open loudly. Then a familiar, friendly voice called, "Master Roshi? Master Roshi? Are you home? I've got Chi-Chi with me! Master Roshi!"

Eighteen shook her head, ignoring her husband who was stumbling out of bed, mumbling excitedly to himself. Marron sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes and blinking a bit cluelessly. The android closed her eyes, realizing that this was a bad sign. Goku was already moving. She wasn't exactly sure of where the Saiyan was on the path of insanity, but she knew that he was quickly climbing up that ladder.


	24. The Second Slap

**Women: 2**

**Goku: 0  
**

Master Roshi sat up in his bed and set a few magazines aside, interrupted from a reading session. Turtle was still sleeping on the floor below him, so when trying to get off of the bed, he accidentally brought his staff down sharply on Turtle's tail.

"Ow, master!" Turtle exclaimed, hiding himself further inside of his shell. But Roshi could only mutter an apology, as exhausted and confused as he was. Goku's voice was calling for him, and he could sense the man's ki on his doorstep. But the question was not why he was there, but rather, why did he bring Chi-Chi along? He had to know that she was married, but, of course, Goku had never been one for keeping his nose out of where he wasn't wanted. He had certainly proved that several times since his childhood.

The Turtle Hermit swung the bedroom door open to reveal a frightened Chi-Chi clinging her arms around the neck of the Saiyan. He only glared and readjusted his red sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, suspicious of this scene. Goku only waved, almost dropping the woman but catching her again right before she hit the ground. Roshi could see the rage building in Chi-Chi's eyes, but she couldn't do a thing to the Saiyan. There had been a time or two in which he even wished he could slap some sense into the man, but the student had certainly surpassed the teacher in this case.

"Hey, Master," Goku said quite nonchalantly for somebody carrying around another man's wife. He made his way over to the worn-out couch and set her down, a pleased expression on his face countering the weary one on hers.

Before Roshi could get a word in, however, Chi-Chi sat up on the sofa and started yelling, "Did you never learn any manners? Before you try a stunt like that, try asking for my consent, first!" Then she lodged herself further into the cushioned back of the chair, her arms crossed, as if trying to disappear.

Goku was dismayed by her reaction to his use of Instant Transmission, but before the Saiyan could say a thing, Roshi asked, "What exactly are you doing here, Goku?" Then, he added in a mumble, "And it's good to see you, too, Chi-Chi."

Chi-Chi showed no signs of acknowledging this greeting, so Goku stretched his arms out and explained, "We need a meeting place for a family conference, and I thought that this would be the perfect location!"

Roshi's shoulders slumped at the thought of sharing his tiny home to a Saiyan, a couple of half-Saiyans, and their families. It wasn't terribly late in the night, but it was still late enough to inconvenience him. This was about when he used his magazines to lull himself to sleep, and he wasn't going to be stopped. So he started, his voice showing a slight hesitation to anger the Saiyan, "Well, Goku, I don't think that's such a..."

He trailed off as Krillin appeared at the head of the stairs, catching sight of Goku and running down the steps to him. "It's so good to see you," he said, which moved the Saiyan. Even after his rude behavior at Kami's Lookout, Krillin could forgive him. But, as Eighteen appeared behind him, he could tell that she wasn't as forgiving. With her arms crossed, she moved to her corner of the living room to skulk in. Last to come in was an older Marron than Goku had remembered, who looked extremely disoriented and walked past Goku without a second glance to take a seat next to Chi-Chi.

Goku squeezed Krillin into a brief hug before releasing him, gasping for air. Then, after resting his hand on the coffee table as support for a few seconds, he asked, "What are you doing here, Goku? Do you need something from us?"

"I just want to use the Kame House as a meeting place for my family so we can work out a few details," Goku said, but his face immediately fell. "I don't think that Master Roshi wants us using this place, though, so I guess Chi-Chi and I will be going..."

There was a look of horror that fell on Chi-Chi's face as she scrambled over the couch, trying to get away from the Saiyan. "I agreed to a family conference, but there's no way I'm going somewhere else with your Immediate Teleporation thing or whatever it's called! That's too much for my old heart!"

"Come on, Chi-Chi," he tried coaxing the woman, but she was stubborn. With each step he took towards the woman, she scurried away, tumbling first over the couch and stumbling towards the corner where Eighteen was standing. "There's nothing to be afraid of; I promise I won't drop you. It's so quick, you're probably just making up being scared."

But as he finally approached her, trapped behind Eighteen, he received a blow in the face powerful enough to make him scream, "Owww!"

Eighteen, who had been on the other end of that slap, had her eyes closed in concentration. That slap had hurt a lot, though she believe the pain to be worth it; she needed to stop the man from getting to Chi-Chi and coercing her into do things she didn't want to do. Goku was a dominating force not by his words, but by his strength. Even one of her strongest slaps she reserved only for her brother wasn't enough to really faze him, only enough to make him yell. She hadn't even broken skin, she noticed as he turned back around angrily.

"What'd you do that for, Eighteen?" he asked, backing off from the corner a bit. His eyes were furrowed in frustration as he rubbed his cheek with his hand.

"You're becoming a monster, Goku," she said in a calm voice, her palm throbbing from the impact. "You need to let her do what she wants to, and that means that the two of you have to make decisions together. I don't care if you're the strongest man on Earth, but a relationship takes work. Right now, I'm not seeing effort. Chi-Chi has always been there for you, and you're not there for her."

Goku's face fell during this lecture, realizing that, perhaps he wasn't letting Chi-Chi have enough say in anything. Maybe a little input from her wouldn't be a bad idea, because that would mean that she might like the idea a little more. So he turned to his ex-wife, asking, "Do you want to have the family conference here, or would you rather have it somewhere else?" Chi-Chi only nodded, turning her back on the whole scene so she could let out a few sniffles. She had unknowingly agreed to put up with this whole frightening experience; she wished that she could have been back in bed with Samuel. At least he couldn't hurt her like this, tampering with her emotions.

Eighteen felt no obligation to comfort the upset woman, so she simply stood there with Chi-Chi sobbing behind her. Her eyes were still shut, focusing on the impact. She was massaging her hand gently in the other, trying to appease the damage. When she finally looked down at her palm, she realized that it was fine, though that didn't keep her from being any less annoyed. She was used to being the powerful one with Krillin; she had no idea of how Chi-Chi had put up with being bossed around by her husband. Yes, they had always said that what she lacked in strength, she made up for in spite, though Eighteen could only shake her head at this. Nobody would be able to control Goku if he were to snap out of himself for an instant, losing his mind. This wasn't a good position to be in.

Eighteen glanced at Chi-Chi again, who had stopped her tears up fairly quickly. Now she was just standing there, her presence in the household being slight. She was a fragile woman who couldn't defend herself very well against these supernatural beings that seemed to come more often, terrorizing Earth. She had once been strong emotionally, but all of her barriers were now worn down. She may have been strong at heart, but she was no android; she possessed all of the human feelings that Dr. Gero had skipped when designing the robots. Chi-Chi would be an ideal target for any foe of Goku's.

Oblivious to Chi-Chi's emotional state, Goku walked up to Roshi assertively and demanded, "We're having our family conference right here." Then, as if an afterthought, he added politely, "Is that okay, Master?"

Roshi rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, uncertain of what he was getting himself into. A Saiyan, a couple of half-Saiyans, and their wives and children and whomever else would be staying in his perfect, little beach house, possibly destroying it. But he still replied, "Fine, fine, you all can have your family conference here. I'm going to bed, though, so don't make a loud racket!" And with that, he retreated to his bedroom, the clunking staff leading the way.

* * *

Piccolo noticed from a distance that there was no light on Kami's Lookout. Its silhouette was a lonely figure in the sky, looking as if it was being held up by the thin, red Power Pole extending from its bottom tip to the top of Korin Tower. The Namekian growled, realizing that King Kai had tricked him into coming here. The place was completely void of any activity that would need Piccolo's tending to; the Kai had been on Goku's side the whole time.

He hovered over the alabaster tile before setting down in the midst of the Lookout, crossing his arms and wondering exactly what to do. The ki from Chi-Chi's house had long since disappeared, and he had lost his only lead as to where the Saiyan might be. His sharp, white teeth were clenched together in anger as he barked at they sky, "Why are you doing this to me, King Kai? I'm just trying to make your job a little easier and keep some peace on this planet!"

His words reverberated through the air, awakening the slumbering East Supreme Kai. Piccolo jumped back at this stretching figure, extending its arms towards the sky as it sat up. His heart jumped as he asked, "Who are you?" His claws were digging into his shirt from fear, feeling an unfamiliar source of power from this stranger. It wasn't as strong as a Saiyan's, but it was still something to be revered. He gasped, taking a step back as the figure stood up to its full height, which was a few feet shorter than the Namekian's. The short figure merely chuckled, a bit familiar now to the Namekian's ears.

A lantern formed in his hands, illuminating his face. "It's just me, Piccolo," Kibito Kai said, soothing the Namekian. He recognized this face, but there was something different about him.

"You look... different," was all that the Namekian could say, falling to one of his knees in respect. "You're power has changed, too."

"That's to be expected," the purple Kai said, tugging at one of his Potara Earrings. "I'm two beings in one. The East Supreme Kai, or as you may know him, Shin, fused with his servant, Kibito, during Majin Buu's time on Earth. This is probably why you don't recognize me for who I am. You may continue calling me East Supreme Kai if you would like, but I've also taken the name Kibito Kai."

Piccolo's face showed awe at this revelation. So somebody had been fused indefinitely by those tricky earrings; he remembered hearing from Goku afterward that he had actually fused with Vegeta, taking the chance of staying that way forever. And Piccolo wasn't new to fusion, either, having to share a body with two other Namekians. He was unsure of why the East Supreme Kai would make the decision to fuse with an underling, but he decided not to ask that question.

Instead, he asked, "Kibito Kai, what is it that you need from me? King Kai had sent me here to be of aid to you, I suppose."

"I just need a... a report on the happenings of Earth," Kibito Kai said, thinking of the lie on the spot.

This didn't satisfy the Namekian, however, as he asked, "Why don't you ask Dende, the Guardian of the Earth? It is his job."

"He's so young, though!" Kibito Kai insisted, sitting back down on the bench. "He doesn't half the experience you do, nor does he have the maturity required to be able to deliver something of such importance to me."

Piccolo only nodded at such a compliment. His doubt disappeared as he began talking, starting with the problem of Goku. Kibito Kai could only smirk slightly, relieved that he had some form of a fan club.


	25. Taking Charge Again

**Some people call it filler, some people call it character development. You decide.**

Goku surveyed the room after Roshi left, trying to decide how to make room for a family gathering. There would be Chi-Chi, Gohan, Videl, Pan, Goten, whoever his wife was, and any other grandchildren he didn't know about. Plus, Krillin's family would probably want to stay due to boredom, which he wouldn't object to; if he needed to make a point, he was sure that his friend would step in for him. There wouldn't be much seating, but he was certain that the younger kids, if there were any, wouldn't want to stick around. He'd make room if they did.

He started redecorating by bringing the two stools from the bar and placing them in the middle of the room. Then he took the green sofa with Marron still laying on it and dragged it around, making the dozing blond yelp from surprise. He took the two arm chairs and placed them strategically in a circle with the rest of the seats, knocking the television off its stand to present yet another seating option. He stood back and examined his work, the tiny television now lying on its side. He glanced over towards the others, who were all shocked, and nodded as if to approve of himself. This would definitely present enough seating.

Chi-Chi blinked after rubbing her red eyes, asking in a tiny voice, "What are you doing, Goku?" She advanced towards the Saiyan, who had already headed into the kitchen. Her extended hand retracted as she saw his head poke out from around the wall, grinning.

"I'm just trying to do a little housekeeping before our guests get here," he explained, getting back to the kitchen. "I had to clear a little room for everybody to sit down; we have quite a few people coming, you know."

Chi-Chi only shook her head, glancing towards the vacant television stand. Then she looked at Krillin, who could only give her a shrug of his shoulders. Marron was asleep again on the sofa, but Eighteen had her lips pressed, as if to prevent certain words from flying out of her mouth. Finally, when Goku returned to the main room, Eighteen stepped forward threateningly. "Goku, whatever you're doing, you need to stop it. You're frightening all of us."

To her displeasure, Krillin said, "It's fine, Eighteen; it's not as if he's killing anybody. Actually, I think it's kind of funny..." His voice trailed away, however, as he received a glare from his wife, to which he gulped.

Goku smiled at this encouragement, wiping his hands on his pants after licking his fingers. "Thanks, Krillin. I'm just trying to make this the best get-together our family's ever had," he said, nodding to the shorter man. He resumed a seat on one of the bar stools in the middle of the room, patting the other and directing to Chi-Chi, "If you'll sit down and relax, I'll go get everybody. You need to sit and rest your feet."

Chi-Chi ignored him, turning away again. Her face reddened as he saw her determination to not give in, so he said, "Fine, fine. If you don't want to sit, I won't force you to. But I'm going to get the rest of the family." With those words, he stood up, getting one last sly smirk of approval from Krillin. Then he placed his fingers to his forehead and disappeared.

Chi-Chi watched the spot he vanished from, stepping tentatively towards it. She heaved a sigh, glancing towards Eighteen, who had her arms crossed coolly again. Marron was still blinking in surprise from Goku moving the sofa around, and Krillin only laughed, wondering exactly what his friend was getting himself into. This was certainly more excitement than he had seen in years, and he couldn't believe the old Turtle Hermit would miss out on it just to read his girly magazines.

Finally, Chi-Chi began moving around, eager to get the room back in order. She bent down to pick the television up when Goku popped back in the room, right behind her. She gasped, turning around to stare at him in shock as he laughed, "I just realized... I don't know where anybody lives anymore."

The whole room nearly fell over. "Goku," Chi-Chi pleaded, lifting the television in her hands and moving it back in its place, giving a an exhausted sigh afterward, "I'll call them and tell them to come over. It won't take long."

He only shook his head as she took the phone off of the wall, punching a few numbers in and holding it up to her ear. She glared at him as he knocked the television off the stand again, explaining, "We need the seating, Chi-Chi. There isn't enough room for everybody to sit down."

"They can stand," Chi-Chi said right before a familiar voice picked up. She began talking to Videl, laughing a lot as their conversation continued. She then hung up, calling Goten's house this time. His wife, Valese, picked up, and they began chattering away. Goku crossed his arms and took a seat on the television stand, which groaned under his weight until it broke, the wood splitting in half. Chi-Chi only watched in horror and, holding the phone away from her mouth, yelled, "Goku! This is exactly why we don't use television stands as seating!"

Goku only smiled, glad to get a reaction out of his ex-wife. Her screaming was a good sign, he noted as he stood up from the rubble, though he did feel bad for breaking Roshi's furniture. He would have to find some way to pay the Turtle Hermit back, but that was for another time. When Chi-Chi hung up on Valese, he pretended as if nothing had happened as he asked, excited, "So, what did they say?"

Chi-Chi rolled her eyes, her usual spirit peeking out of her now. With a hand on her hip, she informed the rest of the room, "They're coming as soon as possible. They're excited you're back, Goku, but really... Why don't you listen to me? I thought I told you to leave that stand alone! It's for televisions, not grown men, for Kami's sake!" She threw her hands up in the air for emphasis, and even as her voice rose, Goku laughed at her reaction. Even Krillin could see this as a good sign for the Saiyan, seeing as Chi-Chi was her happiest when she was making a fuss over nothing. The short man grinned, seeing the two fitting back together perfectly.

But Krillin had to bite those thoughts back, seeing as he actually did like Samuel Kahn as a man. He was honest, and he was a nice fellow. He may have enjoyed seeing Chi-Chi with Goku more, but that was for comedic purposes. As for everyday life, he wasn't so sure that Goku was an ideal husband; he just fought and ate all day. But Goku sure was a heck of a lot more enjoyable to be around; transporting the crippled Kahn from one part of town to the next proved to be too much of a hassle, and the doctors claimed that laughing too much might disrupt his internal apparatus, whatever that might have meant.

After scanning the room with her dark eyes, Chi-Chi held her shoulders back, making her way towards the kitchen. "I'm going to make this place presentable," she informed everybody. "I'm going to grab some cleaning supplies, but I'll be right back." However, as Goku had guessed, she didn't return right away. Instead, there was a low growl coming from the kitchen. "Goku..." Her head then peeked from around the corner as she asked, infuriated, "What happened to this place? It looks disgusting!"

Goku chuckled as Krillin eyed the two, confused. The men walked towards the kitchen, which Chi-Chi displayed with an extended arm. "What did you do, Goku?" she asked sharply, pointing towards certain aspects of the room. The cabinet doors were open, a squeezed can dripping red beans down its side and on to the clean counter. The refrigerator door was open, showing a lack of contents aside from a dinner plate that had once held the next day's ham. Two plastic milk jugs were laying on the floor, a puddle of milk forming at their mouths.

All Krillin could say, so astounded by this feat, was, "There goes lunch!"

Chi-Chi was already reaching for an apron hanging on the pantry door, ignoring Krillin's commentary to say, "Start cleaning your mess up, Mr. Saiyan! If you could do housework as well as you could save the world, we might have actually seen the floor in our kitchen! In fact," Chi-Chi continued, Goku grinning all the while, "if you could do housework as well as you eat, we could probably have had the whole house sparkling clean! But, no! You always had to be out and about, fighting with some stupid idiot who should have been working, just like you! My dad always told me to hang around people I wanted to be like, but I guess you just always wanted to amount to nothing. Gohan, on the other hand, well, I wanted him to be something! I told him to get an education, but you were always distracting him, trying to get him to fight! As for Goten, by then I just gave up; I'd learned that when you're fighting a fighter, you just can't win!" She emphasized this last phrase through her gritted teeth as she finished tying her apron. Then she heaved a sigh and handed him a dishrag, saying, "Now get to work before the others get here."

Goku continued to smile and stare at her, amazed, as she pushed the cloth into his open hand. He blinked a few times, darting his eyes towards Krillin for help. The moustachioed man was biting his lip to prevent laughter from spewing from his mouth, unable to contain his amusement. The strongest man on Earth was remembering what it was like to be dominated by a spouse, and she wasn't even his spouse anymore.

* * *

Trunks whipped through the air, his ponytail and Suno's scarf both trailing behind him, bouncing through the air. His eyes were shut as he focused on two goals. First, he wanted to get to Kami's Lookout. The sooner he could find Dende and wish his father back, the better. Secondly, he wanted to stop thinking about Yamcha, but thinking of this second goal in his mind was counterproductive. So he focused more and more on the first step, trying to hold onto his sanity. He needed his father's respect if he was going to come back, and he knew that his father held no respect for the insane Broly. He needed his father's respect, and losing his mind wouldn't achieve that.

He clenched his fists tightly, trying to speed up. He needed those Dragon Balls. He needed his father.


	26. Of Two Minds

**Sorry that this chapter is fairly long as far as these chapters go; I would have broken it, but I couldn't find an appropriate spot. Ha ha - anyways, enjoy, readers, seeing as this is getting close to the constant request of Goku getting chewed out by his kids. Won't say anymore!**

Videl stared at the phone she had tenderly set down, wondering if what Chi-Chi had told her was true. Their conversation had been brief, just enough to allow her to sink the idea of Goku returning into her mind. She knew that Gohan would be ecstatic; her husband had changed a lot lately, and she had often thought that it was because of his father's sudden disappearance. If Goku was really returning, that could possibly give Gohan back some of the spirit and happiness he had as a kid. Of course, it was ridiculous to just blame this mood change on Goku; it might have just been the impact of settling down as a family that had changed him. He never had really wanted another child after Pan, which had always pained her. No matter how often she had hinted that she wanted a boy, he firmly put his foot down, refusing to listen to another word of the topic.

Gohan had taken up teaching English courses at the Orange Star College, being one of the younger professors there. He was successful in his work, though he always seemed exhausted when he returned home. He hardly spared time for her or Pan, insisting that he start grading stacks of essays that had been piling on his desk. Videl sometimes wondered if he assigned so much homework just to create an excuse to avoid his family, though that was an insane idea. Gohan did like being with them, only in small increments of time. She knew that these little doses of Pan being with her father as in a real relationship, not a tutor-to-mentor relationship, were very important in the child's development; she just wished that Gohan would allow even more time between them.

It had never helped Gohan's mood to have Majin Buu wandering the corridors at night, looking for something to do. He had been gone lately, so when he returned just that morning, Videl knew that her husband would only be irritable. The pink blob had even angered her that day by reviving her father so easily; death was supposed to only be faced once. It wasn't until then that she realized just how dangerous those Dragon Balls were, destroying all rules and boundaries. She sighed, wishing that they didn't exist, just as she wished that nothing else had such a terrible power. Some things were just meant to happen in life, and death, whether natural or not, was one of them.

She lifted her hand from the phone and hurried out of one of the many living rooms in the mansion. She made her way through a crowd of gossiping maids who dispersed at her arrival, regretting Chi-Chi recruiting them for her. Her mother-in-law had been bragging about what diligent workers they were, but Videl never saw any work done. The only reason why she didn't fire them was because she didn't want to go through the hassle of re-hiring a bunch of maids, though it seemed as though she would have to put the time aside now.

After climbing two flights of stairs, past the maids' sleeping quarters on the second floor, she heaved a sigh. It had been a while since she had last used a treadmill, but her mind had been too consumed by her father lately to worry about her own health. Now she was regretting it, though, as she clenched her hand on the railing, trying to keep her balance.

She rested her hand on the doorknob, listening to make sure that Gohan wasn't on another call or typing away at his computer, which were both signals for her to leave him alone. But as she couldn't make out either of those noises, she pushed the door gently open, revealing an exhausted-looking Gohan, sitting at the same writing desk he had been seated in all day. He pressed the pen in his hand against the wrinkled paper on the desk, creating a red blot as he looked up, asking, "Where have you been, Videl? I've been waiting for you to come upstairs to fall asleep." He glanced at the digital clock sitting on the desk before placing the cap back on the pen and setting it on the paper.

Gohan stood up from his seat as his wife explained, "Sorry, Gohan, I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I just wanted to stop by Dad's room before falling asleep - you know, just to check up on him." Her husband nodded, watching her face suddenly start glowing as she rushed up to him. Her voice brightened as she continued, "He wasn't there, so when I was passing through the living room to come upstairs, I-"

"Wait," Gohan demanded, furrowing his eyebrows as he gazed down at Videl. Then, with uncertainty in his voice, he asked, "He wasn't in his room?"

Videl laughed a little, knowing exactly why Gohan was suspicious. That wasn't important at the moment, however; she needed to tell him that they were going to meet his father. She ignored his qualms, insisting, "No, he wasn't in, but-"

"We need to go find him, Videl!" Gohan exclaimed, grabbing his coat off of the back of the chair. "What if he's gotten himself into some kind of mess?" Then, he stopped shrugging the blue coat on his shoulders as he asked, sternly, "Is Buu still here?"

"I don't know, Gohan, but-"

Angrily, now, he said, "I bet that thing's done something to him!" Gohan huffed, marching past Videl and to the door. "I'm going to finally give him a piece of my mind. I'm sick of that pink thing thinking it's actually a part of this family! I should never have allowed your father to keep Buu in this house. It's not even a pet; it's a monster! And I bet it's done something to your father - come on, Videl!"

"Gohan!" she raised her voice, perturbed by his ignoring her. This stopped him as he was opening the door, and he looked at her, irritated by her lack of concern for her own father. The mood of the room completely changed as her frustrated voice became cheery, grabbing her husband by his forearms and saying as quickly as possible, "Your dad's come back! Goku! He's returned!"

Gohan's face became void of all emotion as he registered exactly what his wife had just said. Goku... returning? His father, savior of Earth, returning? Disbelievingly, he glanced down at both of Videl's hands grabbing his suit, saying hesitantly, "He's... come back?" His eyes then focused on hers as she nodded fervently, and his voice became more confident as he continued, "He's come back?" The smile on her face told him everything he needed to know; Videl wasn't much of a liar, and she wouldn't tell him something of such magnitude if it wasn't true. But that was almost impossible for him to understand. His father, Goku...

It had been a while since he'd given his father much thought. Videl could only watch as he crossed his arms, his head nodding as he realized that it made sense. He had only gone to train Buu, so it was logical to assume that he would be returning. However, try as he might, he couldn't conjure up any emotion as a reaction. There was no anger for the man, nor was there joy. Gohan closed his eyes as Videl asked, her voice meek, "Aren't you... aren't you glad that he's back?"

And the fact finally hit him as he turned towards his wife, exclaiming, "Why should I be happy? He's abandoned my family for so long, for so many years, so many times, that I had hoped that he would just stay away." His tightly folded arms budged slightly as his wife placed her hand on them, persistent.

"Gohan..." he heard his wife murmur, her voice low to prevent any of the maids from hearing through the cracks of the doors. Never in her life had she been forced to fight so much for privacy, but now was the time to do it. "Let's go visit him, Gohan. Even if you don't want to see him, I know Pan will want to. But I know that, deep down, you do want to see him. You love him, Gohan." She trailed away from him, heading towards the door, as she said, "If you really don't want to go, you don't have to. But if you're coming, be down in five minutes." She paused, glancing towards the stack of papers to grade sitting on his desk. "I want to go as a family." And with those words, she slipped through the door, leaving it cracked open.

Gohan maintained a stoical expression, pondering over what to do. He couldn't feel anything but bitterness towards his father, but the tears forming at his eyes were evidence of some other feeling all together. He gritted his teeth, rubbing his watering eyes with his hand before deciding follow Videl down the stairs, knowing that he was going to have to confront his father some time, whether it be in this world or the next.

* * *

Valese stared at the phone, holding it in her lap next to her growing stomach. She held it preciously in her two hands, unsure of what the future held in store for the young couple. She would finally get to meet her father-in-law, the one that Goten always talked about, pride swelling in his voice. He had often said that his father would return, and it looked as if he was right. Valese sighed, tossing the phone back on the large bed she was sitting on. She wasn't sure if she wanted to meet Goten's family again; they had all been odd.

His brother and sister-in-law were definitely the most normal; they always dressed in nice, casual clothing at family gatherings, even managing to force their daughter into pretty dresses against her will. His sister-in-law, Videl, had always been such a sweetheart, talking to her when nobody else would. The brother, Gohan, was a loner, though he did give an occasional nod, and the girl was very courteous, especially under the watchful eye of her father. Goten's mother was perhaps the next most normal person in Goten's extended family, though even she proved to be fairly eccentric, fussing over the smallest details and wearing those old-fashioned kimonos. Valese had always been intrigued by the style, though she thought it to be impractical for a woman who liked doing so much house labor. Rich people, she figured, could do as they pleased, however unreasonable.

As for the rest of Goten's family, they frightened her. They were a fighting brood, she knew, but they were all rather peculiar. Even the rich, blue-haired woman at the Capsule Corporation, Mrs. Briefs, had too strong of a spirit for the girl to handle. She shuddered, remembering the first time she had met that woman; it was an embarrassing incident at a family Christmas party, one in which she knocked tapioca pudding all over the woman's dress. She had only been dating Goten for a few months by that time, only just out of high school. She had vowed, after that day, to never get cursed at by a blue-haired woman again, so she stayed away from the Capsule Corporation building when possible.

She certainly hoped that Goten's father, Mr. Son, was a fun man. She had heard stories about him and about how he was going to return, though she had begun doubting it; the couple had been married for six years, and there was no sign of him. But now, all of the sudden, she was finally going to meet him, a man that Goten had told her had saved the world multiple times. But what would she wear to meet such an important person? Would she need to dress formally?

She quickly became distressed, placing her hand to her large belly with the knowledge that she didn't have any maternity outfits to wear for such special occasions. She tried pushing herself off of the bed to walk towards the closet, but Goten had entered the bedroom with a glass of water and a handful of vitamins. Seeing the pregnant woman try to stand up, he approached her with a smirk and teased, "Come on, Valese, you know what the doctor said. When you stop seeing your toes, it's best to let your husband take care of you. That's what I'm here for"

Valese tried smiling back as she sat back on the edge of the bed, but the pout still lingered on her face. Goten saw this and, after setting the pills and water down on the bedside table, asked with worry in his voice, "What's wrong? Are you feeling badly?" He rushed towards her, his hand immediately going to her forehead. "Are you sick?"

"No, Goten," she said, pushing him back a little, wondering what to say. Finally, with Goten backing off from her, she turned towards him and asked, "What... what are you supposed to wear when you're meeting somebody important? It's bothering me, Goten."

Goten sighed with relief, assuming a spot on the bed right next to her, careful not to rock the mattress. "Oh, Sweetheart," he started, placing his arm around her waist and moving her closer towards him. "What... what kind of important person?" he asked carefully. Lately, she had been taking her imagination as reality, even more confused than usual. Goten had talked to the doctor about it, but she had simply attributed it to pregnancy. The doctor had recommended no medication, suggesting to solely talk these things out with his wife. This proved hard to do as he nearly laughed, wondering exactly what was running through his wife's head. "Is this a very imporant person?"

"Yes," she said quite dreamily, forgetting all about her internal conflict about what to wear. "He's very important; he's your father, and I'm finally going to meet him, Goten." She looked at the shocked Goten, who had pulled away from her, and asked, "Isn't that wonderful?"

"My father?" Goten asked, surprised. Neither of them had broached the topic in years; why now? There was a slight pause as he fumbled for her hand, placing it between his as he said gently, his voice comforting, "Valese, you aren't going to meet my dad. I... I think you were dreaming about it, that's all. Now, get to bed after taking your vitamins. You'll feel better in the morning."

He stood up and began peeling the blanket off of the bed, but Valese was persistent. Confidently, she explained, "I'm quite sure that I am going to meet your father, Goten. Your mother - she called, telling us to go to the Kame House right away. Isn't that exciting?"

"Wait... what?" He stopped preparing the bed for her to lay down on and looked her intently in the eyes. "My mom just called?"

Valese nodded, closing her eyes as he lunged for the phone on the bed, scrolling through the list of recent callers. Surely enough, the Kame House was at the top of the list. He stepped backwards, wondering if his wife hadn't been imagining a conversation with his mother. There was one way to find out, so he stood there, his breathing ceased as he focused on a particular energy. If he could sense his father's energy, he would know that, maybe, Valese was right for once.

After a few seconds of concentrations, there was a familiar tingling up his spine. He shivered, knowing that Valese was right. Valese was right, which meant... "Dad's back." The words fell from Goten's mouth, matter-of-factly at first. Then he chuckled, his voice becoming louder as his confidence built with each word, "He's come back! He's come back! He's come back!"

Suddenly, he pulled Valese off of the bed and towards himself, enveloping her in a hug as he exclaimed, "He's really come back, Valese!" He began swaying with his wife in his arms and whispered, "Finally, you can meet him. Our kid can meet him. I'll finally... I'll finally have my father again." He breathed relief, but his face became serious again as he held his wife further away from him, letting his hands slip from her waist to his hands. They stopped swinging around as Goten muttered, "I have to make a promise to you right now, Valese. My dad... he wasn't here for the first seven years of my life. He left my mom, so I have to promise you that I won't do the same thing to you. I promise that I won't leave you or the baby for anything, because you two are what's important to me."

Valese smiled placidly at her tall husband, murmuring affectionately, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Babe," he replied, delivering a swift peck to her lips. He then relinquished her, grabbing a folded jacket from their closet. He helped to get it on her shoulders, sighing with relief. His father had finally returned.


	27. Surprising News

**It's hard to keep up with two plots at the same time, so I suppose I'll have to do some juggling. Don't worry, back to Goku and Chi-Chi next time!**

The East Supreme Kai's attention wavered as the enthusiastic Namekian droned on and on, reciting his whole day's occurrences within only a few minutes. Kibito Kai's shoulders slumped as he leaned back against the bench, staring at some of the flowers growing on the bench behind him instead of focusing on what Piccolo was saying. The Namekian was too enraptured by his own words to notice the Kai's indifference towards the whole situation with Goku returning, and it wasn't until the Kai suddenly sat up that Piccolo noticed he had been ignored all of this time. The purple Kai exclaimed to the green man's displeasure, "Listen! Do you hear that noise? It sounds like... it sound like..."

Piccolo crossed his arms in disgust, standing up from his levitating position. He didn't need the Kai to tell him what the sound was, seeing as his ears were finely attuned to pick up minute noises. The energy he felt alone told him that it was a Saiyan approaching. It was only a Saiyan. He had far more important things to talk about, like Goku... who was a Saiyan. Realization dawned on the Namekian: it was a Saiyan.

He walked towards the side of Kami's Lookout the energy wave was approaching, wondering who it may have been. It didn't feel like Goku or Gohan's energy, so he assumed that it must have been Goten. His green forehead furrowed in thought, pondering over exactly why the demi-Saiyan would make a stop here. He rarely visited the Lookout, and at this time of night, he knew that Goten wouldn't be coming to just drop by. Whatever business he had, it must have been important. It may have been concerning his father.

Kibito Kai followed the Namekian after sliding off of the bench, recognizing the energy of a Saiyan by this point, too. His hands were folded in front of him as he gazed through the night sky, attempting to make out who the visitor was, but the dark blanket was too thick for even his keen eyes to peer through. He glanced up at the Namekian before thinking of who this visitor could be. It wasn't Goku or Gohan's power he was sensing, so he figured that it had to be one of those two boys, Goten or Trunks. He thought it was the latter; whoever was approaching was strong, and he knew that the older boy had always had the upper hand in battles. So, trying to impress the irritated Namekian, he predicted, "I think it's Trunks that's approaching."

Piccolo glared down at him, still angry that he had spent the last ten minutes blabbering to himself, believing that the Kai actually needed information from him. Kibito Kai hadn't listened to a single word of what he had said, meaning that this was all a ploy of distraction developed by Goku. Of all the people to be tricked by, Goku was the most embarrassing. With an edge to his tone as his wits sharpened, trying to gain some dignity back and less abashed by the Kai's presence, he countered, "It's Goten; Trunks hasn't been here in years."

The purple Kai looked up at the green man, intrigued. A lot had happened since he had checked up on Earth personally, which he regretted not doing for the past dozen years. North Kai was apparently keeping secrets from him, not telling him all of the happenings in this sector of the universe. Kibito Kai shook his head, realizing the Namekian was probably right in guessing the approaching stranger to be Goten, though something told him that this was Trunks. He felt a familiar power emanating from the figure, which he immediately recognized; whoever was coming, he had an aura about him very similar to that of the infamous Vegeta. He smirked slightly as he remembered how much trouble that boy, Trunks, the Saiyan prince's son, had caused. He had always innocently claimed that Gotenks was an individual of his own accord, but he knew that Trunks was the one manipulating his and Goten's combined mind.

The power he was sensing, however, was higher than he had remembered Trunks' being. For a brief second, his heart flitted as he wondered if this was Vegeta himself, Elder Kai's crystal ball lying about him being near Namek. As the figure approached, however, his mind was cleared of this sudden doubt.

Piccolo growled as he realized that he had been wrong, Trunks now being close enough to discern through the night. With his foul mood persisting, he called loudly, "Trunks! What are you doing here?" His voice was rough, tearing from the amount of yelling he had done already that day. He had never liked the present-day Trunks very much, as he had been a brat like his father. But the Namekian could sense a change in him, observing the fierce determination on his facial features.

As Trunks stumbled on to the landing, disoriented by his thoughts during flight, he pushed past the two and demanded firmly, "Take me to Dende." He turned towards Piccolo, grabbing him by the front of his purple shirt. Even louder, insanity overwhelming him, he repeated, "Take me to Dende. I need to talk to him."

The Namekian grabbed the young man's fist in his large, green hand, forcing Trunks to relinquish his hold over him. He asked sharply, "What are you doing, Trunks?" He studied the purple-haired man, not shocked in the slightest at his matured body. This Trunks had come to look almost identical to his future counterpart, only older and unshaven, though the sneer on his face was foreign. Never had the Namekian seen such a repulsed expression on Trunks' face, though he didn't allow this to unnerve him as he clenched his hand even more tightly around that of the young Saiyan's.

Trunks snarled, twisting his hand out of the Namekian's grip, "I need Dende! I need him right now!" Then he turned away from the pair, unwilling to allow Piccolo to see just how much damage he had done with that simply grasp. He bit his lip, holding his injured wrist in his hand as he marched towards the unlit palace. It had been a long time since he had felt pain, and he didn't like the way that Piccolo had dealt it with such ease. The Namekian was stronger than he had estimated, though that would be of no concern, as he hadn't even become Super Saiyan yet.

The East Supreme Kai sidled in front of him, his hands held out to stop the Saiyan in his path. "Come on, Trunks, we want to help you," he said, abandoning the side of the Namekian. Piccolo had remained behind, examining his own hand. The boy was strong, he noted as he noticed his palm was red, but he was nothing that he hadn't seen before. The Namekian knew that he could handle the boy if necessary, and he saw that the time would be coming as Trunks loomed threateningly over Kibito Kai.

"I don't need your help!" Trunks insisted, trying to force his way past the Kai unsuccessfully. "Let me by!"

Watching his struggle with the Kai, Piccolo knew something was wrong. By this age, if he had been training even occasionally, getting by Kibito Kai shouldn't have been a problem for a demi-Saiyan. But he also noticed that Trunks' breathing was shallow and his heartbeat irregular, as though his mind and body were in overdrive. Piccolo watched as the purple Kai fought to subdue the man, the match seeming equal at the moment. Of course, that was until Trunks became so frustrated that he became Super Saiyan, the energy knocking Kibito Kai off of him.

Trunks, with the Kai out of his way, glided over the surface of the Lookout, trying to reach the palace before anybody else could stop him. However, something shocked him by gripping his shoulder. He froze in midair as he noticed that it was Piccolo's clawed hand, but Piccolo hadn't moved an inch. His arm was extended halfway across the Lookout, and with a sudden lurch, it began retracting and taking Trunks along with it.

The movement was too quick for Trunks to fight when he was so dazed with thoughts of his father returning. All of his spirit and strength fell as he landed at the Namekian's feet. Piccolo, even with the knowledge that he had won his first battle with a Saiyan that day, was unamused. He bent down to pick the man up by his shirt in the same threatening manner Trunks had with him earlier, only now Trunks was dangling a good foot off the ground. Pulling his face directly up to the stubbled face of the man, Piccolo bellowed, "What kind of a stunt were you trying to pull out there? Have you never learned to respect your elders?"

It was then that the lights went back on in the palace with Dende yelling, "What's going on?" Piccolo groaned, sparing one last glance of disgust at Trunks before dropping him, knowing that the boy was finally going to get a chance to talk to the Guardian of Earth. For a brief second, the Namekian had considered throwing the Saiyan off of the side of the Lookout, but Trunks wasn't that weak at the moment; he would easily fly back up. So all Piccolo could do was cross his arms as Dende approached, picking up the lantern Kibito Kai had left on the bench. Piccolo could see the shock on his face as he asked, "What are you all doing here?"

His eyes were first turned to Piccolo and Trunks, an odd sight, especially with Trunks scrambling to his feet to talk to him. Then he turned his attention to an even odder sight, which was Kibito Kai standing off to the edge of the Lookout, recovering from Trunks' energy wave. Piccolo, unimpressed by now and severly annoyed, said, "I'm not sure what the other two are here for, and I shouldn't even be here either." He clenched his teeth, unable to comprehend actually falling into a trap thought up by Goku. It was certainly a disgrace to the Namekian race.

"Supreme Kai! You... you look different!" he stuttered, not giving the Kai enough time to explain as he turned to the man rushing towards him. "And Trunks-"

"Oh, Dende!" Trunks pleaded in desperation as his face became a young boy's again, the fight taken out of his spirit. "Dende, I need your help! Help me summon the Eternal Dragon so-"

"What?" Piccolo barked, his eyes darting from the other Namekian to the pitiable man on his knees. "We've already discussed this! We're not using the Dragon Balls for anything; they're already at the top of my list of things to destroy!"

Dende ignored Piccolo and helped Trunks up, asking curiously, "What do you want to wish for, Trunks? It's not for anything evil, is it?"

"No! I want to... I want to wish my father back."

There was silence on the landing at these words. Neither of the Namekians had given any thought to Vegeta in the past few years, but the thought of him returning only made Piccolo cringe. Life had been fine without all of these Saiyans coming back, and he was already trying to keep one in tow at the moment, failing. But before anybody could say anything, Kibito Kai stepped forward, announcing, "Vegeta's actually near here, next to Namek. If he's planning on returning, I'd give him a week."

Everybody stared aghast at him, and Trunks had a crazed smile on his face again. Finally. His father might be returning.


	28. Confessions and Worries

**Okay, I'm an official liar. I'll go ahead and warn you that this one isn't about Chi-Chi and Goku either, but I got struck by inspiration. Anyways, enjoy your chapter; I swear, I think they're getting longer as I go.**

The silence was strenuous on Kami's Lookout, and Dende couldn't help but be the one to let out a tiny nervous chuckle. Evil was very subjective, he supposed. Whereas Vegeta may not have seemed evil in Trunks' mind, Dende could never shake away the feeling that placing their trust in that Saiyan had often been a mistake. He could never forgive him for what he had done to the people on Namek, destroying a whole community just for a Dragon Ball. After all of these years his fear as a young boy had vanished, only to be replaced by a strong dislike. There was also another feeling, perhaps irrational, that the Saiyan may still be evil...

Piccolo glowered as he said, "This is no time to laugh, Dende. If Vegeta is returning, we must be prepared."

"I know, I know," Dende sighed, his face falling as he turned towards the taller Namekian. "I think we should wait to see if he's actually coming back before we fret, though. There's a good chance that he's not coming to Earth..."

Ignoring Dende's sentiments, Piccolo looked at the Supreme Kai and clarified, "Did you say he's near Namek?" As Kibito Kai nodded in confirmation, he groaned and shook his head. In a low voice, he muttered, "This is bad..."

Dende hadn't thought of what him being near Namek meant. He felt his heart rate speed up as he locked eye contact with Piccolo, asking, "Do you think he's already used the Dragon Balls there? I mean, there's no way that we would know, right?"

"King Kai would have told us," Piccolo assured him, but the purple Kai clicked his tongue.

"No, King Kai only just found out today," he explained, his head lowered in thought. "Nobody knew until King Kai had us look for Vegeta in Elder Kai's crystal ball. Vegeta is far closer than any of us had ever suspected."

Piccolo felt his anger surge as he asked bluntly, "So, you were with King Kai? I take it that you two are both trying to help Goku destroy his own life by distracting me?" The Supreme Kai shrunk into his clothes as Piccolo advanced on him, his forefinger an inch apart from his thumb as he said, "I was this close to getting to Goku again when King Kai called me away, saying that I had important business to do here. And who do I find? I find you, Great Supreme Kai, you who lied to me, telling me that you wanted a report on Earth. And when I give it to you, what do I find? I find that you're not even listening to me!"

With those words leaving his mouth, Piccolo crossed his arms and paced away, his fury dying as he continued in a gentler tone, "And now I've got two things to worry about. First, I have to find Goku and keep him away from Chi-Chi, in the unlikely event that they haven't met. Now I also have to deal with Vegeta, whose unknown motives may destroy the universe."

"He might not even know that he's near Namek," Dende insisted in a tone more cheerful than he felt, trying to calm his friend. "Maybe he's just training and isn't even thinking of using Dragon Balls."

Piccolo brushed these hopes aside and huffed in disgust, saying, "Don't deny it, Dende. You and I both know what he wanted, more than anything, even before Goku became his competition. He wanted immortality more than anything the whole universe could throw at him, something he could use to bring down Frieza easily."

"But Frieza isn't alive anymore," Kibito Kai said, trying to be a voice of reason. If what Piccolo said was true, there would be no reason for him to wish for immortality. The Saiyans had already exacted their revenge over the tyrant. But Piccolo scoffed, and Dende nodded, already agreeing with the Namekian's unspoken words.

"Frieza may not be alive anymore, but Vegeta still has competition in this universe. Goku has, I think, damaged Vegeta even more than Frieza did. After all," he said, a chuckle in his throat has he mocked the prince, "Goku is 'nothing but a low-class warrior'. It's bound to hurt his pride to have Goku always defending him, picking up after damage he's left behind. He always used to lettin his pride get in the way of important matters, and I hope he's changed for his own sake."

Trunks had been silent this whole time, a crooked grin on his face since he heard the news. With determination, he clenched his fists and began speaking. "He has nothing but his pride," he argued in defense of his father as that crazed expression faded into a serious one. "That's something that Goku never understood; when all else fails, a Saiyan has to hold on to that pride." He pushed himself off of the ground, brushing dust off of his thick pants as he continued, "Goku managed to steal the only thing that mattered to my father, and that was his dignity. By beating Frieza and Buu, and by Gohan beating Cell, my father kept feeling outclassed. Goku even managed to steal from my father in his absence, taking his mind. I was barely old enough to understand it, but there were times in which, when my father was fighting me, he would tell me these things. It was always about his dignity, his pride."

Dende cocked his head, confused by Trunks' defense of his father. Trunks seemed proud to be the son of a man who didn't even care about him, and he admitted it. He couldn't bring himself to comprehend exactly why he loved his father so much; from what he heard, Vegeta used to abuse his son to no ends in order to get a message drilled into his skull. Dende watched Kibito Kai's face falling in disbelief. Piccolo, on the other hand, seemed to understand the demi-Saiyan more, nodding along as the man continued.

"His pride," Trunks repeated, "his pride; that was what got him through life. As long as he could at least hold on to a bit of it, he could survive. After the Cell Games, he stayed because of me, because I was the next best thing he could have to having a son like Gohan. I may not be as strong as Gohan may have been at half my age, but I've always persisted. I was never as good a fighter as he wanted me to be, but I kept trying. I kept going to impress him, but it never worked. He was nearly giving up, but then I took myself to stay in the Gravitational Room even after he did each day, and I became a Super Saiyan. Of course, even that wasn't good enough; it wasn't good enough that I was eight years old and a Super Saiyan because Goten was also a Super Saiyan. So he worked me even harder.

"He worked me to my blood and bones until we began fighting and my mom would break us up. My father," his voice cracked as he continued, Piccolo's expression hardening, "my father wanted to keep his pride. He had already been embarrassed by being outclassed by a lower Saiyan, and before he killed himself to try to get rid of Buu, he finally told me that he loved me. Finally. But then he was gone," and tears were coming to his eyes, "he was gone, and I was alone. It was awful. The arrogant prick I was had abandoned me, and I fought for one thing: my father's pride. I went Super Saiyan Three with Goten, but that still wasn't enough to avenge my father. I died in the process.

"My father's pride shattered when Goku was the one to save the world. It wasn't the fact that he didn't save the world that bothered him; it was that Goku had bested him again. He was the one to bring their dead loved ones back, not my father. He became weaker after that, emotionally, until that final World Martial Arts Tournament. He was determined that Goku finally get beaten, but he left, taking the last of my father's pride. Now he would never have a chance to redeem himself in his own eyes.

"He left, and I'm here to avenge him. I don't want to pick a fight with Goku, because that's for my father to do now that he's returning. I know that my father's been training all of these years, ready to gain his pride back by defeating Goku once and for all. It looks as if he'll be back soon enough to finally do it." Trunks laughed as he placed a hand on his forehead and looked up to the sky. "My father will finally get back at Goku, just like how I'll finally get back at Yamcha."

Everybody's eyes widened as Trunks said this, disconcerted by this sudden threat.

* * *

Yamcha laughed as he leaned in the doorway to Bulla's room. The girl had always been a hassle, but she had become even more difficult to manage now as a teenager. He simply watched as she tried closing the door on him as he insisted, "Come on, Bulla. I won't come in if you don't want me to, but I need to talk to you about your mom." He glanced around the corridor to make sure that Bulma wasn't listening, but she was on the other side of the house in their own bedroom.

Bulla continued slamming her hand on the button meant to slide the metal door across and shut her room off to others, but it had a sensor to prevent it from closing on anybody. It was a stupid design; as soon as she became head of the Capsule Corporation, she would redesign this building and get rid of the safety sensors, allowing her to close the door on her step-father. But he just stood there, chuckling away before she finally gave up, retreating to her bed. "Fine," she said, allowing her stubborn personality to give way. "Come in and talk to me about what you need to, but I won't promise that I'll listen."

After she leapt on the bed, her arms crossed, he entered into the pink haven. He gazed around at the posters of different Capsule Corp. items hanging on the walls, covering up a variety of scribbles she had drawn as a smaller kid. She knew that she needed to get around to repainting the room eventually, but she rarely had free time to even think about it. Between school and trying to learn how to manage a business, redecorating her room had never been a large priority. She saw Yamcha's mouth open to comment on the bright colors for the hundredth time, so she said, "I get it, you've told me before that my room looks like a second grader's. I don't care; just come in and talk to me."

He bit back a smile as he pulled up the white chair in front of her computer, sitting in it as she began brushing her frizzing blue hair out of her eyes. Then, completely seriously, he asked, "What was your mom so upset about earlier today? I came back, and she was crying. I've known your mom for a very long time, and she isn't much of a crier; it kind of scared me. I thought something had happened."

"Well," the girl started, a bit reluctantly. "I had asked about you going to see the Saiyan, Goku, and I just asked her about my dad. That's it."

Yamcha was silent as the girl continued combing through her long hair with her fingers, finally asking, "Do you want to meet your dad, Bulla? He's not the nicest guy in the world, if you know what I mean..."

Bulla noticed the glint of fear in his eyes as she admitted, "Well, I would like to finally meet him, seeing as I don't remember him from when I was five years old. I don't think I could choose him over you as a parent, though; I've grown up with you for almost my whole life. I just... I've heard so much about these Saiyans, and I know that I'm part alien. It's... kind of scary. Gohan and Goten have never seemed very interested in talking about our heritage, so I've just kind of wondered what they're like. I mean, they aren't hideous creatures, so what sets them apart from everybody else?"

There was a chagrined smile on his face as he laughed lightly, "Saiyans are different. Since Goku's back, I guess I can let you meet him some time; it'll be a while before I want you near him, though."

"Is he dangerous?" Bulla inquired, fascinated. Her mother had always described Goku as being a sweet boy, so innocent and carefree. But from the mixture of amusement and uncertainty on her step-father's face, she wondered if he was some kind of a monster. She had seen pictures of her father and this Goku, and both had seemed fairly harmless to her.

"He's not usually dangerous," he said as the grin faded from his face. The way that Goku had reacted back on Kami's Lookout had been strange, though he couldn't blame the guy; he had just lost his wife. Such a reaction was expected of him, bringing Yamcha all the way back to when he had just become an adult. The memory still haunted him; Krillin had died after the World Martial Arts Tournament at the hand of Tambourine, one of Evil King Piccolo's sons. It wasn't Krillin's death that had scared him so much. It was Goku's violent reaction, the determination in his eyes. And now, as a full-grown adult, he could only imagine what Goku would do to somebody who hurt or took away a loved one.

Then he imagined Vegeta's face, the man who loved little, and what he would do if he found out that Bulma had remarried. Yamcha gulped, slumping against the chair and making Bulla narrow her eyes suspiciously. He shook his head, realizing that life wasn't look good ahead with Goku's return. Goku loved bringing trouble along with him, and Vegeta was trouble.


	29. Hidden Sorrows

**I have to admit, this isn't my favorite chapter. I've had to rewrite it a few times, but I still can't get it right. Ah well.**

Chi-Chi had moved her cleaning expedition from the now sparkling-clean kitchen to the main living room, forcing Goku to take the broken television stand to the back of the house with the rest of the garbage. As he lifted the small table easily, making sure to prevent any wood chips from falling on to the carpet, he noticed a pile of magazines that had been lying behind it. Curiously, he set the table down on the carpet and picked up one of the large booklets, smiling in recognition at the cover. He hadn't looked at one of them since he was a small boy, but now he realized why they got Master Roshi into so much trouble. He held the cover away from his face, allowing himself a few more seconds to scrutinize it before calling behind his shoulder, "Hey, Chi- Chi? What do you want me to do with this?"

Chi-Chi turned off the roaring hand vacuum she had been using to clean underneath the sofa, Krillin helpfully lifting it up for her as Marron continued sleeping peacefully on it. She pulled the handkerchief she had used to keep dust out of her nose down, freeing her mouth as she asked loudly, half-deaf from the vacuum's suction noise, "What did you ask, Goku?" She huffed as she sat on her knees, her back sore from kneeling over. It had been a while since she had lived in a house so dirty it was in need of this intense scouring, and the work wore her out.

"What do you want me to do with all of these?" he repeated, waving the magazine through the air. Krillin's face reddened as he glanced back towards his wife, whose cold gaze had been diverted in disgust. Then he noticed Chi-Chi's expression as she caught sight of the article being waved through the air, her face changing from its calm, pale self to an explosive red.

"Goku!" she yelled, dropping the vacuum from her grip. She stood up quickly with her fists tightening and marched over to the innocent Saiyan. Glowering at that dumbfounded expression on his face, she swiped the magazine from his grasp and furled it into a tube. Then, making good use of the booklet, she smacked him over the head with it while saying, "Don't ever look at these magazines, you pig!"

Krillin set the sofa down gently, his ears a bright pink as he scratched the back of his head, asking, "Where did those come from?" He laughed nervously, daring another look at his infuriated wife. The last time he had gotten caught flipping through those magazines, he had been thrown out with the trash. With a quick side-step, he took the magazine from Chi-Chi's loose grip and looked down, gulping. Then he said, grinning at his wife, "Oh, that Master Roshi. I can't believe he still reads these..."

His voice disappeared as Eighteen pointed up the stairs, commanding, "Now." He gritted his teeth and shoved the magazine back into Goku's empty hands, leading the way up the stairs like a school boy in trouble. Eighteen, with her arms crossed, said as she followed, "We'll be back down in a minute." The door upstairs then shut, but before Goku could listen to what was going on, he noticed that Chi-Chi was giving him very much the same look.

He handed the magazine to her as she muttered in exasperation, "You men are despicable! You're all alike, trying to take advantage of women!" She turned her back on him, shaking her head as she straightened the magazine out to reveal a group of bikini-clad girls on the cover. Then, with determination to teach Goku the rules of her house, she ripped the magazine in half as a show of strength she hadn't tapped into in years.

Goku smirked, taking a chance by remarking, "Who was it that used to always wear that blue outfit when we were kids?" In response, Chi-Chi leaned back against the sofa arm and sighed, her eyes turned upward as if in defeat.

"Goku, that was a long time ago, when we were just kids. I still can't believe that my dad used to let me get away with that outfit," she mused, a simper coming to her lips as she thought back to certain memories, forgetting about the present. Her rage was forgotten as she thought over those good days, the ones in which the Saiyan would always rescue her, not abandon her. He had saved her from King Piccolo, the Red Ribbon Army, and countless other men who were intrigued by her provocative outfit. Chi-Chi shook her head, remembering how stupid and naive she had been in those days.

She dropped the shredded magazine on the floor, startled as she noticed that Goku had advanced towards her. Her eyes flitted from the fallen paper to his black eyes, and she stumbled back, almost falling off of the sofa arm. His face came closer to hers as he asked gently, "Why can't we be married anymore, Chi-Chi? I... I miss you."

"Goku," she said, her tone sharper than she had expected. It startled the both of them, so she continued more gently, "Goku, I'm married now. I can't leave Samuel just to be with you. As much as I loved you, he's my husband. It just... won't work out."

He came closer before stopping just a foot in front of her, looking at Marron curled in a ball on the other end of the sofa. Then he turned his eyes back to her, his breathing becoming rougher as he lunged for her hands, knocking her balance off. But his grasp steadied her, though her heart rate began shooting skyward as he said, "Chi-Chi, there's nobody else in the world I could imagine being with. There's nobody who cooks as well as you do, and I learned that I'm not very good at housework. I need somebody to be there and help me; I can't be alone."

At this incomplete list of things, Chi-Chi's forehead softened, the wrinkles in her forehead disappearing as she asked expectantly, "And?"

She wanted him to say that he needed her love and that he had never respected her properly before. She wanted him to cling her close to him, possibly sweeping her romantically in his arms. She wanted him to promise her that he would never leave again and that he would always be there for her. She wanted him to tell her just how much she meant to him and how much he loved her. But he did none of these, only able to stare back with an uncertain expression. He shrugged his shoulders and asked, "What else?"

She shook her head, realizing that Goku was the same man he had been years ago. Her face fell, and she managed to pull away from the Saiyan only due to his confusion. Picking the broken television stand up, she said, hesitantly, "I'll be back. I'm going to, to set this outside." Then she hurried through the screen door, closing it behind her.

Goku watched her retreat as Krillin made his way down the stairs, abashed. When the short man noticed his friend had such a dazed look on his face, he asked, "What's wrong?" Eighteen appeared behind him, smirking with satisfaction. She had certainly taught him to never rifle through those magazines of Roshi's again; it was amazing what a few ki blasts could do to a man.

"I think Chi-Chi's mad at me for some reason," he explained, his forehead furrowing as he thought about the situation. "She said she was going to set that table I broke outside. I think it was something I said."

"Hey, in my opinion, it's not the words that matter; it's the feeling behind them. But with women, it's always what you say that matters," Krillin said, glancing at his silent wife who had resumed her position in the room's corner.

"Should I run out there and apologize?" Goku asked anxiously, afraid that he had ruined everything he had meant to happen that night.

Krillin shook his head, saying wisely, "Leave her alone, and she'll come back to you." Then, with a snicker, he explained, "In other words, she'll be back; there's nowhere else she can go on this tiny island, so she's bound to come inside."

* * *

Chi-Chi slid her slippers off as she walked on the sand, leaving them behind in her tracks as she began walking the perimeter of the tiny island. She set the television stand down behind the house and moved closer to the waves. When she found a particularly shiny pebble lodged in a sand dune, she stooped down to pick it up, lifting her kimono to keep it from trailing on the ground. She turned it in her hand, examining its different hues of purple, brilliant even in the night. She then slipped further down the beach until her toes touched the water, allowing gentle waved to run over the tops of her feet. Her eyes moved from the pebble to the horizon of the dark sea. Then, with her fury returning, she slung her arm backwards and hurled the pebble forward as far as she could. She watched as it skipped once, sinking to the bottom of the black water.

She slumped down, forgetting about keeping her kimono out of the water. She was both upset and disappointed when she knew that she should have been happy. Goku had just told her everything wrong, talking about how he needed somebody to take care of him. She shook her head, placing it in her hands as she sat on the sand. This made her remember that he wasn't her husband, and that she had a husband now that did love her, and not just because she cooked and cleaned. But even the knowledge of Samuel Kahn still sleeping in bed didn't prevent her from feeling for her ex-husband; if he had come back sooner,this wouldn't be a problem. They would have been able to return to Mount Paozu in peace instead of staging a conference with her sons. She wasn't sure of what would be accomplished, now that she could think straight. It was obvious that Goku had lured her here to convince her to ditch her new life and live in the past. But it wasn't that easy.

Being with Goku again had clouded her judgment; she knew she wasn't acting normally. She was becoming a meeker self that she hadn't ever known before, afraid of the Saiyan. Even though she knew that Goku wouldn't hurt a fly without some justified reason, he was a far larger companion than she was used to. Samuel Kahn was slight, but he was witty and funny, always making her laugh. Goku, however, wouldn't be so easily subdued. She couldn't jokingly pull out her rifle and command him to do as she pleased; bullets, and even missiles and grenades, had no effect on him. Just being around him made her feel weak again, as if she wasn't in charge.

She didn't understand how everybody thought she was in charge all of those years ago. They had all claimed that the only thing he was afraid of was his wife, but that didn't keep him from doing what he wanted, against her will. What started out as a strong spirit had been brought down over years of abandonment. He just didn't understand her the way that Samuel did; he rarely spoke loving words to her, he never comforted her. And the only joke he ever told her was, "I sold my car for gas money," which became tiring after hearing every time they had guests over.

She shook her head sadly, closing her eyes before noticing a shining, yellow light. She opened her eyes to be blinded by two headlights, shining from over the ocean. Astonished, she quickly stood up, dusting the sand off of her kimono and regretting her decision to let it get wet. She moved to higher ground, her spirits lifting as she saw the small vehicle flying through the dark sky, reflecting the moon's light. It landed right in front of the Kame House, the side door opening. She saw Goten hop out before taking Valese's hand, helping her step outside as her other hand was pressed against her belly.

Chi-Chi smiled as she picked her slippers up, happy that Goten was a proper gentleman, quite unlike his father.


	30. Uncertain on All Accounts

**This chapter was also a bit tough to churn out. I think next chapter will be better; I'm fairly sure of what I'm going to be doing. Anyways, enjoy!**

Trunks pivoted his body away from the others, pacing to the edge of the lookout and peering down at gathering clouds. He grinned smugly, knowing that his words had left quite an impression on the others. Whether he could carry out killing Yamcha or not was uncertain, but he needed to present the possibility. It would only be fair for them to know exactly what could happen to the Briefs family and who could fix it. Just seeing their reactions to his words had granted him some pleasure that he was missing in life.

His shoulders relaxed as he whipped his purple ponytail over his shoulder, having not cut it in years. His father had once told him that his future self had grown his hair long in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and that was a time in which, his father confessed, he had grown attached to the man. He hoped that when his father returned, he would like him as much as his future self. If he had only obtained the sword, then he could have really been his own image. But Gohan, if he had ever even possessed the weapon, had no reason to give it to him in this timeline, because this timeline was safe.

Trunks planned on changing that.

His back stayed turned on the rest of the group. It was finally Dende who shrugged his shoulders, and with Piccolo's nod of approval, he crept up stealthily behind the Saiyan. He allowed his hand to rest on Trunks' shoulder, shaking a little. This was a Saiyan, and he wasn't sure of what would happen with this contact. But Trunks ignored Dende, focused on his own plans for the future. He ignored him as he spoke up, advising, "Come inside. I don't think you're right in the head right now; I can have Mr. Popo whip us up something warm, and we can go inside and sleep. It's late right now, and I think that it's best that we all get some rest."

But Trunks only jerked himself free of the Namekian's grip, unwilling to comply to his request. He needed to think of exactly what he would do with his father's arrival. If his father was going to come to Earth very soon, he would have to get in contact with Goku. Then his father could come home to a hero's welcome, able to fight his foe as quickly as possible. His eyes lilted upwards as he imagined this moment, being able to see his father finally happy again. Then they could deal with Yamcha. Then they could fix the family.

He released a breath of relief as Dende backed away, afraid of the Saiyan. None of them were threats besides Piccolo, perhaps. He turned his head around, surveying the two Namekians and the Kai, standing around with nothing but worries. His face relaxed into a placid smile as he realized that there was nothing for him to worry about. Everything was going to go as he planned, not as the Guardian of Earth or Supreme Kai did.

* * *

Goku crouched down to pick up the torn magazine pages, deciding that it would be best to keep the house clean even with Chi-Chi outside. He stared at the front door, knowing that she was out there doing something, trying to stay away from him. He thought about ignoring Krillin's advice and going to fetch her, but he knew that it would be better for her to be alone for a moment. The way she had acted; it wasn't her at all. She had been terribly quiet about whatever he had said to make her upset. She hadn't raised her voice once, and she had left as quietly as she had spoken. That wasn't the Chi-Chi he remembered. Something was wrong.

As he stood back upright, he noticed that Krillin was giving him an odd smirk, a glint of mischief and cunning in his eyes. Glancing back to his wife, he said, "You know, I didn't know that you had grown to like Earth women so much. I thought Saiyans were too busy fighting to even think about them, let alone get caught looking at them." Goku's eyes drifted back down to the magazine, his hands joining the two separated halves together at their jagged seam. He only ignored his friend's humor, though. Krillin nudged him with his elbow and consoled him, "Come on, Goku. There are lots of other women out there, so cheer up! So what if you've been married to Chi-Chi for a couple years? There are tons of less neurotic women that would love you, I'm sure!"

Quite glumly, Goku said, "We've been married for more than just a couple of years. I can't forget her; I love her."

"Yeah, but how much do you really love her? Did you think of her every day that you were gone? No! You've got your fighting to focus on, not your love life," Krillin argued, attempting to cheer his friend up. But this only brought Goku's mood down further until finally, Krillin realized his motivational speech wasn't working. Instead, he decided to reason with him by saying, "There's nothing you can do. She's married, and you've got to face it. There's no turning back now."

Goku assumed a seat on one of the bar stools, releasing a large sigh. He stared at Krillin as he asked, "Have I ever let anything stop me before? No, but I can't do anything about this without hurting somebody." He shook his head. "Chi-Chi's husband hasn't done anything to me, so I can't do anything to him. He may have hurt me by marrying Chi-Chi, but at least she's happy now."

"That's the spirit!" Krillin encouraged him, giving him a hearty slap on the back only to find the same pain his hand would be in if he had slapped a boulder. He bit his lip and noticed a dangerous look Eighteen was sending him. "I mean, I'm not saying that women should be thrown away, but Chi-Chi's a lost case in this sense. It would be better if you just gave up on her."

"I know..."

"And just think about it! We can all go to the beach some time; there are lots of women there! Somebody's bound to be impressed by your strength!"

"I know..."

"And maybe it'll be somebody young! I got lucky with an android; she hasn't aged a day." With those loving words, he only received a roll of Eighteen's eyes and a huff of disgust. Krillin ignored his wife and grabbed the two magazine halves from the Saiyan, pointing at one of the women and saying, "You could get a blond like that one! Or maybe you still like dark hair... That one's pretty cute."

"Krillin," Eighteen said threateningly, seriously. He gulped guiltily, dropping the magazine's pieces from his hands. Then he turned towards Eighteen and gave her his best smile as she commanded, "Leave Goku alone. He doesn't want to think about women right now. Do you want to have another talk?"

"No, but I'm just trying to cheer him up. I mean, look at him." And with those words, Krillin pointed towards the Saiyan who was gazing emptily into space. But what Krillin didn't realize was that Goku heard an approaching aircraft. His breathing shallowed as he recognized a very familiar ki nearing the Kame House. It was definitely Goten he sensed, though he felt two other sources of energy alongside it. One was far stronger than the other, though still weak even by human standards. And the other was one that he recognized, though he couldn't put his tongue on exactly what it was.

It quickly came to him. He had felt that pulse from inside several females. The first time had been long ago, soon after his marriage to Chi-Chi. It had been the first signs of life from Gohan coming from within Chi-Chi's belly, and that was when he learned that he was going to become a father. A father. Then he had felt it from Bulma and Videl and even Eighteen, and they had all had children. So it was only logical to assume that whomever Goten had married was pregnant, too.

He wasn't completely certain, though. He asked hesitantly, "Is Goten's wife... pregnant?"

Caught off-guard by the change in subject, Krillin only blinked a few times before replying, "No, I don't think so." He squinted his eyes and crossed his arms, a bit perplexed by the question. He turned towards his wife and asked, "Is she?"

"How do you expect me to know, Krillin?" she drawled, hiding a smirk behind her lips. Men, and especially her husband, were hopelessly inattentive. It was obvious that she was pregnant, and it only took one meeting with the girl to find out. It had been a few weeks ago that Bulma had held one of her famous gatherings, in which Eighteen got stuck with a group of talkers, Goten's wife being one of them. She listened as the woman blabbered on and on about how she was hoping for a son, though she wouldn't mind a daughter, though she had already picked out boy's clothing, though she really did like braiding hair, which made a daughter more appealing. Eighteen couldn't stand this senseless chatter; it had been so loud and obnoxious, she didn't see how anybody couldn't have heard the woman. She almost decided to tell her ignorant husband of the good news, but she decided that she would let it be a surprise. As for Goku, she was shocked that the man had picked up on it so quickly after coming back. The man was slightly more intelligent than anybody gave him credit for being.

She stepped back further into her corner, observing the Saiyan. Her husband wasn't being helpful at all, trying to prod him to look for a new girlfriend. Even she, as heartless as she had been created to be, knew that humans needed time to heal. She watched him stand up, that dazed look in his eyes. It was a new beginning to an old life that he would have to create, and she only hoped that he would handle it well. If he lost control of himself, then the world would be at a loss.

But at that moment, Goku wasn't focused on the potential threat he held for the world's balance. He had stood up, feeling a flying vehicle right outside of the Kame House. Goku didn't need to verify the landing with his eyes; he could feel three people, born or not, just land on the same island as himself. And one of those people was his youngest son.


	31. Ominous Signs

**I want to explain something before you read this chapter: I honestly forgot about Puar and Oolong until about halfway through this story, and I've been trying to find a way to shove them back in, though it's adding another plotline. This story has so many frays right now, a lot of the fun in writing this is fitting them all back together! And... poor Yamcha.**

Goten held his hand out for Valese to grab, his eyes darting from the cloudy sky to his flying vehicle. He had turned off all engines and rotors, but the propeller was still budging slightly with a momentary breeze. The weather was a bit flighty, but it seemed as if it wouldn't be terribly unstable. The air wasn't humid enough for rain, though the chill of night did leave him with a shiver. He steadied Valese as she stumbled on her heels in the sand, wrapping her coat even more tightly around herself. He allowed her to walk closer to the Kame House as he stared up at the sky as he always did, wondering if there was something missing out there. The stars were bright, but it seemed as though something larger and even brighter belonged up in the darkness...

After slamming the vehicle door shut, he turned his head to the only source of light, which was the Kame House. It was then that he noticed his mother was standing alone in the sand, her shoes in her hand. She wasn't showing a bit of scorn for the cold as she allowed Valese to hurry to her, struggling to navigate her heels through the sandy terrain. When her daughter-in-law finally reached her, she held her arms open and enveloped her in a hug.

Goten trudged through the sand as he called, "Hey, Mom! Aren't you cold?" All that she was wearing was her trademark kimono, which seemed odd. Of course, the weather seemed odd in itself. The Kame House was never this cold being surrounded by water, but now bouts of cold air were rushing by. There was something almost ominous about it.

His mother chuckled a bit stiffly, and Goten noticed a crooked smile on her face as she reassured him, "I'm fine, I'm fine." Her cheeks were tinged with red, but she acted as though she didn't even notice. Goten approached his mother warily, only to have himself pulled into the hug. "It's so good to see you two. It's been too long..."

"It's only been a few weeks, Mom," Goten said, a little surprised. There was definitely wrong with her, but he was able to figure out what it was in an instant. "Hey, is Dad here?" His voice lightened with this question, though he saw her face slip into disappointment. He was right; it had to have been his father that had made her upset. It was to be expected, but he could only imagine just what that man was up to. He couldn't wait to see him again. He could only imagine how much he had changed in that time, and he hoped that nothing was wrong to have brought him home. He hoped that this was only a family reunion after eight years, nothing more.

His mother confirmed his suspicions of him being the cause of her troubles as she said acridly, "He's inside. He doesn't understand... He's such a goof. I was considering leaving, but I did want to see you all, so I waited."

Goten only smirked slightly, pondering over the dozens of things his father could have said to have gotten his mom into such a tizzy. He knew that, as hard as she tried keeping it secret, she did enjoy fussing over nothing. So he patted her arm and said, trying to comfort her, "It's okay, Mom. Let's just all go inside and talk it over." She released the two of them as Valese pulled her coat up and over her cold face.

"Is Gohan here?" he asked as they walked up to the wooden steps, stopping there for a brief second as Chi-Chi slid her slippers back on her tiny feet.

"Not yet."

"How's Dad doing?"

"As well as he used to."

"Is he excited?"

"Of course."

Valese made her way up the steps first, ignoring the brief mother-son conversation and flinging the door open to reveal a brilliant amount of yellow light. After swaying uncomfortably on her heels on that top step, she lunged inside the house, almost falling face-flat had it not been for a tall, muscular man catching her. She looked up to see a face almost as shocked as she felt, but that face looked so familiar. She backed away from the man and towards a sleeping Marron, intimidated by his size.

Gohan caught the door after Valese had swung it open, taking his mother's hand and helping her up as if she had difficulty walking. Chi-Chi smiled at this gesture, already hearing roars of approval from Krillin at Valese's appearance through the door. Then she hurried through the door, Gohan releasing her grip and giving one last look at the sky.

It was definitely ominous weather, he noted as he walked inside.

* * *

"I think something weird is going on," Yamcha confessed as he stood in his striped pajamas, his arms crossed while leaning against the wall. Bulma was on the other side of that wall, brushing her teeth, which was the only time he could talk to her without her interrupting him to give input. Still, she didn't ever seem to miss a chance to run her mouth.

Pulling the electric toothbrush away from her mouth, she asked, showing only the slightest concern, "What's wrong, hon?" Then Yamcha could hear that dull roar again buzzing through the room.

"You know how I could feel Goku's energy?" he continued, hoping that Bulma was really listening. This was terribly important, and it made him nervous just to think of what was happening. "Well, I've been keeping on my toes, sensing if anybody else powerful had followed Goku." It was really Vegeta that he was worried about, considering that he was the man most likely to try killing him. He gulped, "I do feel somebody powerful, but I'm not sure of who it is... In fact, I think it's a couple of people, and the power seems to be coming from Kami's Lookout. I feel Piccolo, Mr. Popo, and Dende's energies, but there are, I think, two others with them."

He had sensed all of this on the way back from Bulla's room, searching for his life's sake. If it was only curiosity tugging at him, he wouldn't have even checked for other signs of ki. But he needed to confirm that Vegeta hadn't returned along with Goku, though this risk of checking for the ki hadn't alleviated his fears at all. It had only put him more on edge, wondering if one of those men were Vegeta. Neither of the mysterious powers felt like Vegeta's, though one of them did feel frighteningly familiar. This was bad.

"Go check it out if you're so worried," Bulma suggested directly after spitting.

Yamcha face fell at this, hearing the water running in the next room. The last thing he could do was go there and check to see if his assassin was waiting there, ready to strike. Bulma didn't seem to understand his qualms, so he clarified, "I can't go check it out. I'm afraid..." He winced at how shaky his voice had become with those last words, and he knew that Bulma wasn't impressed by how quickly the faucet was turned off.

She marched into the room in her robe to find Yamcha against the wall. She placed her fists on her hips and asked incredulously, "You're afraid?" As she came closer, Yamcha chuckled nervously and backed away. "You, Yamcha, are really afraid?" She stopped there, her shoulders slumping. "Who are you so afraid of? Gohan?"

"No, not exactly..." he muttered, abashed. His wife might not have understood his fear, but it was there. "It's not Gohan that I'm afraid of..."

"Goku? Goten?" she pushed him, trying to imagine who could be so strong that Yamcha wouldn't want to go near the Lookout. "Tien? Chiaotzu?"

He turned his head away, embarrassed by Bulma's persistence. But if he told her exactly who it was, she might have burst into tears. Or, even worse, her face might have brightened at the possibility of Vegeta's return. He didn't want her to leave him for the Saiyan; it was almost a big a fear as facing the Saiyan himself.

Their getting back together had been an accident. Yamcha hadn't been aware of Vegeta's departure, having headed back to the Kame House right after the tournament. There he decided that he would spend some time in the desert, realizing that he was getting old. If he didn't head back there then, there might have been a chance that he would never return to the place of his childhood. So he left the Kame House with Puar, the two of them in search of their past.

The blue cat was a good companion as they looked for their old hideout, and when they finally found it, they spent a few weeks in it. The two of them lived off of the land and looked through old memoirs laying around, still untouched by grainy winds. He never stole from the passerby, refusing to become the desert bandit he had made himself to be so long ago. He had changed since his childhood, and he liked to think it a change for the better. He could see, however, that Puar was becoming bored, disappointed by his choice of just laying in the cool of shade all day. But Yamcha had become too old for the same excitement he had so eagerly delved into as a sixteen-year-old. That was in the past.

When Yamcha woke up one morning, however, he found that the cat was gone. She had disappeared. Yamcha had spent a week searching for her, using his Dynocap car to check all of the nearby towns, leaving no boulder unturned. But he never managed to find his best friend.

It was then that he returned to the Kame House to ask for directions to Fortune Teller Baba. If she could find a Dragon Ball, he was certain that the old kook would know the location of Puar. But at his return, he noticed that Bulma was visiting the Kame House, in tears. Her father had just died, which was when he also learned that Vegeta had left. He had held her in his arms, only meaning to comfort her. It only took a month before they were officially dating and half a year before they were married. He had attempted taking over the family, becoming the man of the house, which made a particular demi-Saiyan very angry. Trunks had left without a word in the middle of the night.

All of these distractions kept him from looking for Puar for a few years, but by the time he finally did ask Fortune Teller Baba, she told him that Puar had all but disappeared off of the face of the planet. When he inquired about Oolong, who had also vanished, she gave him the same grim news. She tried finding them in Other World, but they weren't there to be found. Then Baba, very annoyed by this point, told them that they must either been out of her crystal ball's range or killed by a demon and were now trapped in another dimension.

Yamcha wouldn't give up on finding his friend, however. He remembered that when Krillin, Chiaotzu, and Roshi had died under King Piccolo, they managed to use the Dragon Balls to wish them back to life. Using Bulma's Dragon Radar, he found all of the Dragon Balls and used them under Piccolo's heavy supervision. However, when Shenron had appeared, he said that it was impossible to grant that wish, seeing at their friends weren't dead. Before he could try using the Dragon Balls to become youthful again instead, Piccolo had called the dragon away, furious at Yamcha's attempt at using the precious balls for such a selfish wish. Even after he apologized, Piccolo threw him off of Kami's Lookout aggressively, forgetting that he could fly. Then, with all of his strength, Piccolo threw all of the Dragon Balls as far as possible, keeping only one in his possession: the seven-star.

Yamcha never managed to find Puar. If Vegeta did return, he didn't want to be left alone, if he was even left alive after such an encounter. It was one of his largest fears to be abandoned. So he shrank into his shoulders as Bulma commanded, "Stop being such a wimp and go find out who's here! If you're going to complain about how scared you are, go to Kami's Lookout and prove you're a man. You're acting like somebody's trying to kill you!"

And without even letting him change, she kicked the poor Yamcha out of their room, uncertain as of what to do. As much as he wanted to follow Bulma's advice, he couldn't do it. If Vegeta was up on Kami's Lookout, he knew that he wouldn't be returning.


	32. Now With Patience

**I hope this chapter lightens the mood of the story just a little!**

Goku had been waiting just inside of the house by the front door, prepared to greet the newcomers. Nevertheless, he was surprised as the door was swung open. A young woman toppled through, stopping as she ran straight into him. He looked down at her, surprised and speechless, knowing that this had to be Goten's wife. She was beautiful, and he could immediately see why Goten had married her. He smiled gently as she backed away unsteadily, her brown hair disheveled as she fell on to the sofa next to Marron. Krillin greeted her, patting her on the shoulder as she slumped down and hiccuped.

Goku's eyes trailed down from her face, noticing a protruding belly. He was right when assuming she was pregnant, he realized as he stood there and stared, listening to a faint heart beat. He knew he was unnerving her, however, so he turned away and noticed Chi-Chi behind him, her hands on her hips and looking considerably better than she had just a few minutes earlier. He meant to apologize for whatever he had said to upset her, but then he noticed Goten at the door, giving one glance to the sky before coming inside. And when Goten turned around, his eyes locking into contact with his dad's, the room was silent.

Goten watched his father whose shoulders were held back, bearing an air of confidence. His ruffled hair was the exact same as it had always been, the exact same as his own had been when he was just a small boy. His face held the same subtle smile it always did, and his eyes were just as bright and alive as they had been years ago. He was just as tall and just as impressive; Goten could remember why, while growing up, he had always admired his father. And now he was back in the flesh, not just a memory, looking as he did eight years ago. What he had been expecting to change didn't, making him back up against the wooden door. It scared him to have his father before him, the same man he had been before he had left him.

The Saiyan sensed his son's fear, immediately making him regret spending all of those years away from home. When he should have been here, watching his son grow up to become a real man, he was gone and training Uub. Goku hoped that those years without his family would pay off, because watching everybody gathered there panged his heart. Here was one of his sons, his son's wife, his ex-wife, his best friend, his best friend's wife, and his best friend's daughter, all of whom he had abandoned years ago. Seeing the shock in his son's eyes had brought this realization fully around to Goku, allowing him a bit more insight into why Chi-Chi had been upset with him earlier. It wasn't that he wanted her back for cooking in cleaning that had bothered her. It was that he hadn't wanted her back to simply be a family again.

And now Goten was a fully grown man, only a little younger than Gohan had been when he had left. He was good-looking, his facial features very closely resembling his brothers. He had black, cropped hair, held an excellent posture even when backing away, and had Chi-Chi's black eyes. Goku sighed, wondering now if his son resented him. He wondered if his son would want him to leave, just as almost everybody else had.

But Goten's expression was far from anger, and when the awe died from his face, Goku could see a grin break out on his younger son's face. He ran up to his father, hugging him, the two of them at equal heights now. Goten was still considerably leaner than his father, though, and he could feel himself be crushed under his father's strength. "I missed you, Dad. You wouldn't be able to believe how much I've wanted to see you. I have so much to tell you, I don't..." His jubilant voice faded, however, as he pulled himself away from his father, looking at those familiar eyes. "I can't believe this, Dad. I was beginning to think that you weren't coming back. I really didn't think so."

Goku tilted his head downwards, now feeling ashamed by his son's excitement. It shouldn't have turned out this way, with Goten becoming ecstatic over small things such as meeting his father again. He held his son back, forcing his son's arms from around his neck. Then with a sigh, he placed a firm hand on his Goten's shoulder and apologized, "I'm sorry, Goten. I didn't mean to worry you like that." He turned his head away, feeling guilty for leaving his son like this. It was the same feeling he had in his gut after coming back from seven years of death to find that he even had a second son, and he knew that he had been let down again.

"It's fine, Dad," Goten tried comforting his father, his eyes furrowing. It was only on rare occasions that he had seen his father looking so serious, talking in such a stern voice. It hadn't been since Buu had terrorized the Earth that he had spoken in such a stoical manner, sparking uncertainty in Goten. Hesitantly, he asked, "Is something wrong, Dad?" The tone in Goku's voice had been one of such severity that Goten wondered if his fear had been realized, if something was wrong with his father. But he immediately exhaled with relief as his father shook his head, staring his son in the eyes again.

"There's nothing wrong, Goten, except that I haven't been here for you."

Hearing this from his father's mouth both relieved and disheartened him. Feeling awkward after this unexpected confession, Goten pointed to his sitting wife and said as if he hadn't heard that last comment, "Hey, have you met Valese yet? We've been married for a few years now."

Goku smirked a little, dropping his hand from his son's shoulder to look at Valese. Chuckling a little, he asked, "So, how far along is she? I'm not expecting another grandkid any time soon, am I?"

Goten's jaw dropped, as did Krillin and Chi-Chi's. Valese just darted her eyes around the room, looking lost as the two men talked about her. Goten turned back to his father and asked, "No, and she's about three months, but... how did you know, Dad? Did Mom tell you?"

"I just know some things," Goku replied, crossing his arms triumphantly. He had managed to break the tense atmosphere of the room successfully, and everybody immediately began to sit down. However, as Chi-Chi began making her way across the room to sit on one of the bar stools, Goku grabbed her forearm and whispered into her ear, "Chi-Chi, I'm really sorry. I... I didn't mean to make you upset earlier."

Chi-Chi only rolled her eyes silently, plopping down on the stool as Goku released her. He stood by the door, watching his ex-wife for a brief moment as Goten settled down between Valese and Marron. He placed his arm around his wife casually and looked up at Krillin, who was standing behind the sofa, "Hey, how've you been? I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm fine!" Krillin said cheerfully, his moustache bristling as he spoke. "I've been doing a lot of cooking and tending to the wife and kid. You know, I'm still trying to find Marron a boy so I can get her out of this house. I've always said it's a shame that you're taken, but Valese is a nice girl, too." He watched his grown girl as she rolled over in her sleep, still curled in a ball at the end of the sofa. "Anyways, I'm sure that Marron will find her perfect match some day. I managed to find mine." And, once again, he grinned back at his silent wife, who was still ignoring him.

Goku laughed and asked, "Have you been training at all since I've been gone? It doesn't look like it."

"You're right," Krillin said, placing a hand on his hip as he set another hand on the back of the sofa to keep his balance. "I haven't really been training since I've been married. Sure, I spar every once in a while, but my back's been getting to me lately, Goku. As young and nimble as you may still seem to be, Goku, we're really old men. It's getting hard to even fly; it takes too much energy."

Intrigued, Goten stated, "I'd like to see you take on my dad, some time, Krillin." He laughed cockily as his eyes darted from an embarrassed Krillin to a simpering Goku. "Now that would be a fun match to watch..."

"Hey, now, what's fun about seeing one old man beat up another old man?" Krillin inquired, his back slightly arched to look at Goten. Trying to recuperate some dignity, he said, "I'll have you know that Goku and I used to be equal. In fact, I'd say that when we first met, I was even stronger than he was. Isn't that right, Goku?"

Goku only shrugged, admitting, "He's right. But it does show how much can change over time." Those words earned him a glare from his short friend, though Eighteen seemed to be enjoying herself, her edges of her frown turning upward a little.

"I don't think you want to spar with me, Goku," Krillin said, lifting his hand off of the sofa and assuming a fighting stance. He wobbled a little, earning a short round of laughter from the room. Even Chi-Chi managed to chortle a little, shaking her head and forgetting her anger.

"Trust me, that won't work," Chi-Chi advised the short man, placing her elbow on the bar. She rested her cheek in her palm, musing, "I've already tried pulling some martial arts on him today, and that didn't work. Of course, nothing seems to work against him anymore. My trusty rifle, the one that I only save for special circumstances, didn't even work." She glared at her ex-husband's amused expression, muttering, "But don't take that as a compliment. It just means that I wanted to get rid of you quickly."

"You can't get rid of Goku if he doesn't want to go," Krillin chuckled, standing upright again. He groaned as his back popped, displaying how fragile he had become within the last few years. "Saiyans are stubborn, which is something that I've learned over the years with Goku." Then, he chided, "You really need to break yourself of that habit, Goku. It's a bad one."

Goku scratched the back of his head, replying, "Sorry Krillin, but if I haven't changed after all of these years, I don't think I'm ever going to."

"There's that stubborn spirit again," Krillin sighed, shaking his head sorrowfully. "I hope that he hasn't rubbed off on you, Goten. Of course, Chi- Chi's the same way, if not worse."

"Am not," she pouted, her nose turned to the air as she folded her arms. "I've always been willing to listen to others if they'll listen to me."

The bite at the end of this sentence had Krillin whistle lowly, feeling a certain tenseness building itself in the room again. But, luckily, Goku didn't catch on to the meaning behind her words, a carefree smile plastered on his face. Krillin felt relief leave his lungs as he watched the Saiyan stand there, having not heard his ex-wife's commentary.

Eighteen, getting bored of this banter, finally asked, "Is there a point to this meeting? It's getting late, and I have a feeling that Krillin needs to get to bed soon." She knew that, though Krillin may have been in high spirits now, if he didn't get rest, he became cranky in the mornings. And though it was fun to poke around with her drowsy husband, his complaints became tiresome very quickly.

"A point?" Goku asked, thinking for a moment before remembering. "Oh, yeah! There is a point to this meeting! It's... it's..." He looked at Chi-Chi for help, who turned her head to Eighteen and nodded.

She dropped her hands in her lap and explained, "We need to talk to the kids about what we're going to do. We figure that it's best that we're all on the same page before we try continuing with our lives. I want Gohan to be here, too, though, before we make any important decisions, so we're just waiting. Trust me - I want to go to bed, too. It's getting too late." And with that, she let out a small yawn, cupping her hand to her mouth.

Eighteen huffed, looking at the clock. It was ten, and she found that just standing around was becoming boring. She placed her hand on her hip as she watched the group continue on, talking of unimportant subjects when they should have been talking about the state of the planet. Humans were very inefficient, she concluded as she watched the door, hoping that Gohan would come through any minute now.


	33. As Turmoil Breaks Loose

**Thank you for 50 reviews! It's been fun writing this, and it's been great to hear your criticism and praise. This is a short chapter, but enjoy!  
**

"You are as disgusting as my brother!"

Of all of the days Baba could have come to visit his small planet, King Kai couldn't believe it had to be this one. Elder Kai felt the force of her words accompanied by a crystal ball being rammed into his head. A disgruntled Baba began sliding off of the guilty crystal ball, her short legs dangling in air for a few seconds before she landed on the mowed lawn. Her legs couldn't stick a landing from a few feet in the air, however, so she ended up landing on her rear. She bit her lip at a round of laughter from King Kai, at which she exclaimed, "At least I'm not dead!"

This quieted the blue Kai, but Elder Kai continued cringing in pain, rubbing his tender head. "What was that for?" he snapped, standing up from where he was sitting to tower over the tiny witch. But she only huffed, moving right past him and towards an unconscious girl lying on the ground.

Baba clicked her tongue and snapped her fingers, the maid automatically levitating just a foot off the ground. She paced around the girl's body and asked, "Where did you get this girl? She's still alive, and by natural laws, she shouldn't be here."

"You're not dead either!" Elder Kai said, insisting on keeping the girl there until she at least woke up. Any argument, however feeble, would suffice as long as Baba felt sympathetic. But that was on a rare occassion, and it certainly wasn't on this day.

She narrowed her eyes and said, "I'm a magical being with abilities to transport myself from this world and the next, even able to bring the dead back for a day if necessary. I have permission from King Yemma to come here, which isn't even necessary. This world's rules aren't my boss; I'm their's." The old Kai was speechless as she walked off, her back turned to him and asking, "Now, where did you get this girl? I don't enjoy repeating myself when I could be doing other things, like cheating people out of their money."

Elder Kai sighed, already dispirited, "I got her from Earth... Goku gave her to me, so she's my present. He promised me that I could kiss her..."

Baba stopped mid-step, turning around to ask incredulously, "Goku told you that?" She turned back around to face, him, the girl now draped on the soft grass again. She clenched her small hands into fists and, with her face reddening, exclaimed, "That boy has always been trouble! Ever since the day I met him, I knew he was going to be no good!" Then, as she exhaled a large breath, her anger left her as quickly as it came. "Of course, I'm always right. I predicted that he'd become a great hero some day, and he is now just as I had said years ago. Of course, if that boy promised you that you could kiss this woman, he's obviously not saving everybody from their doom..."

King Kai ignored these ramblings and asked, pointing to the crystal ball, "Can you verify something? We just got readings that Vegeta's near here, and I was wondering if you could confirm them." Lowering his voice to a whisper and covering his mouth with his hand, blocking it from Elder Kai's view, he muttered, "I don't trust these other Kais. They're nuts, and they don't laugh at my jokes."

Elder Kai crossed his arms and harrumphed, upset over his loss of the girl. He knew that Baba wasn't a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn't willing to muster the energy to argue with her. His eyes narrowed as he watched Baba cackle, "Sure, but for a price." Seeing King Kai's grimace and Elder Kai's sour expression, she changed her mind, "Well, I guess you've already paid your prices. I'll put a spell on the girl to keep her asleep, just so she doesn't get nightmares over seeing your two ugly faces." Then, moving her fingers through the air and breathing incantations, she faced the girl. The two Kais just watched, intrigued by this form of magic, and when Baba had finished, they noticed the girl's sleep to be even heavier than before.

"Now," she said, signaling for the crystal ball to come with a twitch of her finger, "I'll see what I can do." The sphere was floating before her face now, and, waving her hands above it, she tried summoning a picture to appear. But, try as she might with the two Kai's watching, nothing appeared. Frustrated, she kicked the ball and cried, "Nothing! Not even static!" She huffed and tried again, but with the same results. Then she turned to the blue Kai and explained, clearly irritated, "My crystal ball has been doing this for the past couple of years now! It's been claiming that everything's in some other dimension or out of my power to see! Even when I was paid to look for a lost dog, I couldn't find it!"

Elder Kai simpered triumphantly, saying, "My crystal ball is working fine. I don't know why North Kai insisted that you help; we've already found Vegeta's coordinates." And with this, he held up the sparkling sphere, displaying it proudly.

Baba glared at the old Kai, crossing her arms and saying, "It's not fair. I sent it to get repairs just a few weeks ago, and when it comes back, there's nothing! I need to get a new one."

"So, you haven't been making predictions up lately, have you?" King Kai asked warily, making sure that the thief wasn't becoming a fraud. Her temper died, though, at this suspicion and left her in a rather good mood.

"I'm afraid you've found me out," she said, scrambling back on her crystal ball. She knocked on it with her fist, shaking her head. "This old thing's been good for nothing but transportation. For the last couple of years, I've either turned people away or made excuses up as to why I haven't been able to find what they've been looking for." She snorted laughter, saying, "You know that Yamcha boy who hangs around Goku? He was my first customer I actually lied to! Ha, I did tell him the truth; I couldn't see anything in my ball. I told him his little cat and pig friends were in some other dimension or something like that." She laughed, seeing King Kai's shocked expression at her having tricked one of his own pupils. "What I didn't tell him was that I may have been wrong! In fact, there's a high likelihood that I was wrong! But the boy's fine, now, I'm sure. He's married, you know, to that twerpish, young, blue-haired girl."

She gave a last sigh, and the maid's body lifted back off the ground. Shaking her head, she demanded, "Now, tell me where this girl came from. I'm glad I scheduled a time to come visit you today, Kai. If I didn't, she might not have survived this mess in one piece."

"Sure thing," he said, hiding his distaste of the hag's methods. His antennae twitched through the air until, finally, he exclaimed, "9085XYZ32! Large, white house towards the south end of North City."

"Thanks," she said, and with a snap of her fingers, she and the slumbering maid disappeared with a pop. Neither of the Kais were left in good spirits. King Kai was always grouchy after she visited, and Elder Kai was upset that he had lost his present.

* * *

Kibito Kai wasn't in good spirits. The more he examined the situation, the worse it seemed to be. He grumbled, feeling that his authority as a Kai, as the East Supreme Kai, nonetheless, was being undermined. Piccolo and Dende were both standing behind with him, surveying the scene. It didn't look good, having Trunks so confident in what may have been a lack of power. He was certain that Piccolo could subdue him if necessary, and by the way matters were going, it seemed as if Piccolo would indeed have to knock some sense into the man.

He pressed his fist to his lips, glancing at Dende for ideas. But Dende was just as astounded, unable to formulate a coherent plan or offer any advice on the situation. The Namekian had already tried talking Trunks into relaxing his tense mind, but he was too restless to obey. Kibito Kai shook his head, his eyes glued to his shoes. This was bad as far as Earthly things normally went.

He gazed upwards as Trunks spoke, turning his body back around, "I've decided that I'm going to wait here until my father comes. This will be an easy location for him to access, one that he will definitely come to." He exhaled slowly, his eyes looking into a moon-less night. "If one of you oppose my being here, be prepared to die."

The threat lingered as he stood there quite impressively, folding his arms against his chest as he stared at each of them. Kibito Kai remained still, his purple skin flushed at the prospect of fighting the demi-Saiyan. Dende trembled in his spot, each intake of air shaky from fear. But when Trunks' eyes turned to Piccolo, he was pleasantly surprised. The Namekian stepped forward with a sneer on his sharp features as he assumed a fighting stance.

"It looks as if I'll prepare to die."


	34. Marvels of the Unknown

**Trunks will win one of these days, I think.**

Trunks' eyes traced the Namekian's subtle movements. Piccolo shifted his right foot forward and relaxed his shoulders, his fingers curled mercilessly. If he had to kill the man, he wasn't afraid to. There were the Dragon Balls that could be used to restore his life, but he thought that after the behavior he had displayed that night, this particular man didn't deserve to be revived.

Piccolo could tell that this would be a quick battle because the demi-Saiyan, judging by his stance, hadn't been training lately. His position left himself exposed to nearly all attacks. Of course, the Namekian couldn't blame him; nobody had taught him proper martial arts techniques, seeing as his father had never learned the art. Vegeta's methods had been erratic and senseless, just as most Saiyans proved to be. Only two Saiyans had ever impressed him by their knowledge of martial arts, and they were Goku and Gohan. As much as he claimed to disrespect the Turtle Hermit's style, he had to admit that it was above mediocre. As for Gohan, he had taught the boy almost everything he knew as a small child.

Trunks felt sure of his own abilities. He couldn't let his father's memory die in such a pathetic way, being beaten by the green alien. He had to maintain his composure, but seeing the Namekian's own confidence only infuriated him. He knew that the pompous Piccolo thought this would be an easy win, but Trunks knew that he would put up more of a fight than anybody expected of him. Seeing the Namekian bow down, assuming the proper fighting position, he decided that he would mimic it just to humor his opponent. Only, when he lifted his two hands in the air, he could hear the Namekian snickering under his breath.

With his lip bitten in frustration, Trunks darted his eyes around, seeing Dende and Kibito Kai back away from the scene. He was so distracted by his anger and the happenings around him that he didn't see Piccolo make the first swift move, which was a kick to his gut. Trunks staggered backwards in pain, teetering dangerously close to the edge. But, as tenacious as he had been raised to be, Trunks wasn't so easily defeated.

Holding his stomach for a brief second as Piccolo jumped backwards, Trunks gritted his teeth and leapt to the side, powering up to become a Super Saiyan. As Piccolo ran up to the empowered man, Trunks grabbed the Namekian's hands, stopping his progress. The two stayed locked in this position, their feet firmly planted forward, until Trunks pushed Piccolo away. But instead of toppling like the demi-Saiyan had expected, he flipped backwards and landed perfectly on his two feet. He smirked at Trunks' disbelief; Piccolo was turning out to be a stronger opponent than he suspected.

This bad start to the match was not enough to make Trunks forfeit the fight. He rushed up to the Namekian and elbowed him in his temporarily exposed face. Piccolo screeched with pain, having not anticipated the boy to carry out such a clumsy maneuver. He quickly recovered, though, and sprung up into the air, soaring higher and higher. Trunks had only seconds to glance around and locate the Namekian, but it was too late by then. When he finally looked up, the Namekian had taken his plunge with his foot digging into the head of the man. He knocked Trunks off of his feet with this blow, crushing him with his weight.

Trunks wouldn't give up, and he radiated a blast of energy, sending Piccolo flying off of his fallen body. Then he stood up from the damaged tile floor, anger fueling his actions. Without any regard to the blood on his torn palms, he dove forward, baring his teeth angrily. He swung one of his legs high and kicked the Namekian straight in the chest, taking the wind out of him. Dende gasped as his friend staggered backwards, his green hand clenched to his heart. But Piccolo didn't allow this ploy to distract him for long, and before Trunks could deliver a finishing blow, the Namekian had vanished once again.

The golden-haired man spun around and growled, "Piccolo!" He was infuriated, knowing that the Namekian was simply toying with him, making some fun out of this spar. But to Trunks, this was more than just about fighting. This was about his pride, his father's pride, and even his future self's pride. Too much was at risk here to grant the green alien victory, and he felt his breath shudder as he clenched his fists, searching for the life source. But Piccolo was nowhere to be found.

He floated up in the sky, immediately feeling exposed in this aerial position. He attempted guarding all of his sides, but he failed as he felt a humiliating punch to his face. He managed to grab Piccolo's arm, and with a firm grip on the Namekian, Trunks ignored his pain and attempted to punch his foe in the chest. But Piccolo was too quick, pulling himself from the man's grasp and swinging himself around, making enough time to kick him in the back. This sent the limp Trunks spiraling downwards at an angle.

Trunks flopped face-forward pathetically to the ground. Dende gasped as Kibito Kai cheered, but Piccolo still wasn't satisfied. He landed gracefully next to the man's body and demanded, "Leave now. You should have enough energy to make the journey back to wherever you came from, but don't bother us again. If you do, I will be sure I kill you." And with those menacing words, he turned his back to the fallen demi-Saiyan, the others staring at their hero in awe. He had expected some kind of comeback from the man, whose hair had reverted to its normal purple coloring, but his body was silent and lifeless.

While Piccolo had his back turned on him, sure that the man was too fatigued to try to continue their fight, Trunks lifted his head off of the ground. The alabaster tile beneath him had crumbled, leaving an indention the shape of a man in its place. Trunks smirked slightly, ignoring the trail of blood running from his nose, as he raised his hand. A small ball of energy formed in his palm and escaped everybody's vision. As it left his hand, aimed for the Namekian's back, Trunks only saw a blur of black intercept it, sliding between his target and himself. Piccolo turned around in shock, his cape whipping behind him, as he saw Mr. Popo standing there with a sphere of light in his dark hands. He gasped as the genie turned towards Trunks and asked, "Is this yours?"

Trunks only beat his head against the ground, angry that his plan had been foiled. The energy ball would have hit and injured Piccolo had the genie not been there to catch it. Mr. Popo had made it just in time to spoil this one shot at vengeance, one of the only things Trunks had left to do after his pitiful performance. And now he was forced to watch as Mr. Popo released the ball of energy, aiming it towards the black sky. He cursed under his breath, staring disbelievingly at the black genie, barely visible in the night. It wasn't fair; it didn't seem as if he ever got to win. His father would be terribly disappointed at these repeated failures, so disappointed that Trunks could hardly bear the thought.

He snarled and spit his tangled bangs out of his mouth, watching Piccolo's looming figure come closer...

* * *

Yamcha sat down in the lonely Capsule Corp. kitchen, the emptiness of the large space suffocating him. His heart beat a little more fiercely as he pushed his coffee mug aside and placed his head in his hands. Two of the energies from Kami's Lookout had grown tremendously, but then, they managed to die out at the same time. Piccolo's had been one of them, the stronger one, but Yamcha couldn't put his tongue on who the other energy belonged to. It was eerily familiar, but he could be certain that it wasn't Vegeta. The ki wasn't nearly strong enough for the man, which relieved Yamcha, leaving him with a faint curiosity. Who could it be?

He lifted his head and pulled the mug closer to him, stirring the remains of the coffee absentmindedly. He took another sip of the dregs before setting it down, torn between just staying there and going to check what was happening. The first option seemed smarter, but to actually go and see what was going on would ease his anxiety. If he could just see with his own two eyes that it wasn't Vegeta, he would be able to breathe again. Plus, the opportunity would allow him to regain his dignity; he could have almost hit himself for admitting that he was afraid in front of Bulma. She stood for nothing that wasn't short of manly from him, and she had always had conditional love like that. Even as teens, she would often become angry because of things he always seemed to be doing wrong.

He wished that Puar was there with him. She could easily sympathize with the man's situation. No matter what was wrong, that cat would always be by his side, ready to support him through any trial he had to face.

His expression fell as he looked from the bitter coffee to the large window, leading to the darkness of night. It was intriguing, the darkness. It held uncertainty that nothing else did, something that he had learned out in the desert, where there was no artificial lighting. Things he could never dream of were lying out there, just waiting to be discovered. But lately, he had been too scared to explore.

With a final deciding sigh, he stood up from the chair, leaving his mug on the table. He walked towards the coat stand and removed the large trench coat Bulma gave him the Christmas before. He shrugged it on and tied it around his waist, turning off the kitchen lights. Then he stepped through one of the side doors to the large, yellow building and gave it a last look before flying towards the curious energies.

If he wasn't doing this for Bulma, and he wasn't doing this to confirm this wasn't Vegeta, he knew exactly why he was doing this. He was going to check out who was on Kami's Lookout for Puar, his best friend, for the sake of the spirit of adventure.


	35. A Decisive Path

**Does anybody else find the fact that Gohan wears glasses in GT funny, but he always ditches them when he fights, as if he doesn't need them? It's always bothered me, so I've concluded that they must be fake. And Trunks actually wears them, too!  
**

The flight was silent over the ocean's calm waves. Gohan had his arms crossed as he leaned forward, pushing Videl to keep up with his fast pace. Pan was clinging around his neck with all of her strength, and the breaking wind chapped her sensitive skin. It wasn't until Videl glanced towards her daughter that she noticed her discomfort, so she finally grabbed Gohan's shoulder and said, "Slow down. Pan's never flown this quickly."

The party slowed to a stop with Pan scrambling to stay on his father's shoulders in this sudden upright position. His lips were pressed together in thought as Videl gripped his hand and asked, "Are you sure you're fine coming here? You look tense." Her face was caring, and as she pulled herself closer to his side, he turned away in shame. He hadn't gotten over his outbreak earlier that day. He had thrown a fit over his father, his father, of all people. He clenched his teeth, unable to forgive himself for lashing out at his wife earlier.

"I'm fine," he muttered, his eyes set in the direction of their destination. He could feel several people's powers emanating from that spot, but his father's was the most prominent. His fists tightened as he hovered above the gentle rolling of the water and looked towards the Kame House. It was this energy that had been the cause of so much pain, leaving him for half of his life. His father was gone when Gohan needed him as a teenager, and he was gone when Gohan needed him to teach him how to raise a family. But the more he looked at it, the more he realized that his father was probably incompetent when it came to raising children. He hadn't been around for Goten's childhood, and he hadn't been around as Gohan made the difficult transition between child and manhood.

He could never forgive his father for abandoning everybody. There was no viable excuse. He didn't care how noble a reason it was, whether it be, 'saving the world by not being here' or 'training the world's next hero'. The thought made the demi-Saiyan sick. He knew that he contained more potential for fighting than anybody else did in this world, perhaps in this universe. He had always been skilled in battle, something that came more naturally to him than it did to anybody else. And he wasn't as weak as his father in some ways; whereas his father was forgiving and believing, just like Goten, Gohan was more cunning than that. He could see around tricks and traps that the others couldn't, making him a better combatant. But his father obviously didn't realize this potential he contained, insisting on training Uub instead. That Uub, so closely linked to the despicable Buu...

He knew that, if he had picked up the same easy training regimen Goten had been keeping, he would easily be able to surpass even his father. But due to not training in years, he wondered exactly how strong he really was. He had beaten Cell, he had helped keep Majin Buu at bay. If he had undergone all of the training his father had, there was no doubt about how strong he could have become. Of course, it was endurance that had always been his father's key reason for being such a skilled fighter, not anything else.

Gohan wanted to teach his father what he had never learned, to never abandon one's family. He grimaced as he tugged at his tie, an internal struggle raging within his mind. He wanted to fight his father, but at the same time, he wondered if peace would be the best way to get his point across. It had been a long time since he had even used a simple ki blast, let alone any of the more difficult maneuvers he had learned through his years of battle. The will, though, the very same will that he knew his father had, the same persistence, the same endurance, made him want to destroy his father. But he wasn't sure if he could carry out a feat of such a grand scale.

Finally, after reaching a consensus in this mental debate, he turned around to Videl and ordered, "Leave." His voice was harsh, cracking with this command. "Leave and go back to your dad's house. I have some unfinished business to attend to, and I would rather not risk having you two around."

Videl's eyes were wide with fear at this decision. "Gohan...?" she asked hesitantly as he passed their daughter from his arms to hers.

But the glare of Gohan's coal black eyes were enough to convince her that whatever her husband was planning on doing, it couldn't involve the two of them. He shrugged off his coat and whipped off his fake glasses, something he had taken to wearing in order to gain respect in the scholarly community. He handed these two objects to Pan, who was being cradled in her mother's arms. Then he undid the knot on his red tie and placed it in Pan's grip, the girl tightening her hands around it. "I'll try not to ruin the rest of my suit," he said as he pushed the white sleeves up his arms until they were above his elbows.

He bent down to Pan and pecked the twelve-year-old on the forehead, something he had often refrained from doing. Then he kissed Videl's cheek, murmuring in her ear, "I will be back. Tuck Pan into bed; I'll visit her in the morning."

Videl just stayed there, hundreds of feet above the ocean, as Gohan departed. Her mouth was hung open in awe as he sped off, faster than she had ever seen him fly. She hoped the he knew what he was doing.

* * *

As Mr. Popo's lips broke out into their large grin, Piccolo marched forth furiously. The despicable scum had tried killing the unsuspecting Namekian behind his back, and if Mr. Popo hadn't caught the energy blast, he might have succeeded. But the genie was quick and clever, not revealing himself until the proper time and catching Trunks off-guard. He managed to deflect the deadly ball of light and possibly save Piccolo's life.

Piccolo was too angry to thank his savior for rescuing him. He kicked the body over so he was laying on to his backside and stooped down, grabbing Trunks by the front of his shirt again. The demi-Saiyan moaned in pain, having his legs dangle off of the ground helplessly for the second time that night. But instead of interrogating him, Piccolo threw the limp body down as hard as he could, leaving a larger path of destruction on the tiled floor.

Mr. Popo's smiled faded as he rushed forward, grabbing the demi-Saiyan before Piccolo could assault him again. Trunks face was now marred by blood, his nose being crushed into the tile. Looking up at the tall Namekian with the man in his arms, he scolded, "I can't believe that you would do this, Piccolo! Look - the poor boy's unconscious." And so he was after that last impact. But Piccolo only seethed and stepped forward, feeling no remorse for having damaged the man so badly.

"This boy deserves everything I plan to give him!" he cried, trying to grab Trunks' neck to throttle him. But Mr. Popo was too quick, sliding to the side and out of the Namekian's arms range.

"Shame on you, Piccolo!" Mr. Popo said with the man still draped in his stubby arms. "I'm disappointed! Where is Kami?"

"Kami is _DEAD_!" Piccolo roared, chasing the genie around the Lookout. By some magic, Mr. Popo always managed to elude the Namekian's powerful grip, even after he had resorted to extending his limbs to try catching the nimble genie. The two of them circled the perimeter of the Lookout, dodging through trees and running around the building. But each time Piccolo came close to catching the genie, he would disappear.

When Piccolo finally became tired of this game, he returned to Dende and Kibito Kai's sides. It was then, as he saw Mr. Popo slowly approach the group of them, that his Piccolo side faded, the Kami in him coming out as he apologized, "I'm sorry, I was... letting my anger get the best of me." His snarl faded, leaving an expression of annoyance in its place.

"That's okay; it happens to everybody," Mr. Popo said quite pleasantly as he set the lifeless man on the ground. Kibito Kai and Dende both approached it, but Piccolo lingered back, unsure if he would be able to maintain control of himself if he saw the rat's face again.

"Should I heal him?" Dende asked, pushing his robe's sleeves up his scrawny, green arms. But he felt the genie's black hand hold one of his shoulders back.

Mr. Popo shook his head, his smile revealing his one, white tooth. "No, I don't think so," he said, looking down at the purple-haired man. Trunks' face was smashed in by that final beating Piccolo had given him, with his lips cut and his nose broken. He could still hear a beating heart, though, so he prevented the Namekian from mending his injuries. "I believe he will live after the thrashing given to him, but I don't want him healed yet. I sense a force of energy approaching that will be better off without this man awake." And with his finger pointed west, he continued, "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but is that Yamcha's spiritual energy I feel?"

Everybody turned to face the direction Mr. Popo was pointing, shocked. Of all of the people to come to the Lookout, Yamcha was in the most danger. Piccolo rushed to the side of the landing and confirmed, "It is Yamcha."


	36. To the Past and Back

**I think this will be the start of yet another plot point... It's a little late in the story, but if it makes it any more intriguing, it pertains to a certain Saiyan in space... Oh, and I hope that everybody's had a very merry Christmas!**

The old World Martial Artist Tournament champion stood up from his kneeling position, a few albums in his thinner, wearier arms. He leaned against the bookcase and spared a glance around the old room. It was the master bedroom of the mansion, having been unoccupied for half a year now. He ran his finger along the wooden furniture after setting the stack of albums down and sighed. It looked as if the housekeepers hadn't been doing a very good job of taking care of the old place.

It had been his bedroom for years, even before his wife had died of pneumonia. For his wife's sake, he had never brought another woman into that room, trying to keep her memory alive. He picked up an old, silver-framed portrait of her, young and in her later twenties. He sighed, shaking his head; she had been too young to go, too young. The wrestler set the picture down and turned around, his eyes on the beautiful canopy bed carved from oak. He stalked towards it and grabbed the silky, purple fabric hanging from its branches. This was the first time in six months that he had been able to think clearly, and he wanted to devote this time to what he had almost lost. If it hadn't been for Buu, he wouldn't have been here, tears closing in on his eyes. He had to thank his pink friend for that much.

He bit his bottom lip, thinking of what would happen if Majin Buu hadn't been there to heal him. He had been told that he was likely going to die that day, but to be brought back so easily... it scared him. What was beyond technology's hold, he had in his grasp. His friend who had been gone for several months now was back, looking as plump as ever. Hercule chuckled a little bitterly to himself, trying to imagine just where he could have been.

Before Majin Buu had returned, he had almost been embracing death with open arms. Goku, his son-in-law's father, had once told him that the afterlife was actually pretty good, if you were a respectable fighter. And after going through a lifetime of being champion of the world, he thought that maybe he deserved a spot up there, his body preserved. Goku had told him about how there was nothing to worry about, how all of his basic needs were fulfilled, how he could train all day long, and how he was never hungry. The wealthy Mr. Satan had all of these things now, but there was a certain relief from stress he had been seeking. His life, so devoted to lies and schemes, needed a time of peace.

Death had looked like a very nice option after lying in bed for months on pain medication. Gohan had insisted bring Dende, the Earth's Protector or something of that sort, claiming that he could heal him. But Hercule had waved him off, saying that he wanted to die off naturally. But, boy, was he wrong. After Majin Buu had returned and healed him, he couldn't believe he had actually wanted to leave his life. There was so much to see here, and seeing Pan cry by his side had definitely made him realize this. His time wasn't up on Earth yet.

He slid his hand along the maroon bed sheets, his fingers tracing the silky fabric. He grabbed a corner in his hand and examined it, regretting not being able to sleep in it lately. It had been medical reasons that had put him in the bedroom on the first floor, being more accessible to staff and employees. But that night, he needed to sleep downstairs one more time. It would be his last night on that guest room's warm, cotton sheets, with that nice down blanket over him. After this night of readjustment, he would returned to his old self, determined to start his life over again. After being so close to the end of this one, he swore to come at peace with himself. He needed to stop weaving lies into each day and worries into each night.

He tucked the thick albums under one of his arms and headed out of the master bedroom's doors. As he turned around the corner, he took the liberty to quickly peek into his daughter's bedroom to see if the young couple were still up. But the lights were off, making Mr. Satan stifle his first real laugh in a long time. Whatever they were doing, he didn't want to be a witness of. He closed the door, a bit shocked that they had left it cracked open, and headed directly down the stairs.

When he reached the first floor, he was immediately startled by a large, pink blob turning around and exclaiming anxiously, "Mr. Satan! You okay? Buu thought you upset!" The champion only shook his head, regretting hiding himself in his room all day. It had been rough when Buu first healed him, but as the day progressed, his mood lightened. It was as if he was seeing something that he had been missing all of his life.

"I'm fine," the champion boomed, a grin on his tired face. The curious passerby watched him as they made their rounds, finishing cleaning the house for the night. "In fact, I have a few things I want to show you, Majin Buu."

With these words, he held out the thick, brown books to Buu's delight. The creature clapped his hands and cried joyously, his worried expression wiping clean, "Good! Buu happy that Mr. Satan happy!"

Mr. Satan patted his pink friend on the back as they made their way down a long corridor and out into the courtyard. He had a lot of memories that he wanted to share with the monster, having no other friends that would listen to him. It had taken six months of lying in bed, having visits from 'friends' from all over the world, for him to realize that nobody could replace Buu. It was simply impossible.

* * *

Goten smiled at his father as Krillin reached the climax of the joke he was reciting, one that he had heard dozens of times. He was supposedly telling his father the joke, but so caught up in what he was saying, Krillin didn't even notice that Goku wasn't paying attention. He was dozing, his back resting against the wall and his arms crossed peacefully. When Goten thought his father wouldn't notice, he took a chance to look at him, trying to find what changes had been made over eight years. His eyes trailed from the top of his father's spiky hair to his heavy training boots and back up, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Goku startled his son by giving him a sudden wink, making Goten jump back and further into the sofa. As everybody stared at him curiously, besides Krillin, who was busy talking to himself, he decided to put his arm around Valese's shoulder to make the jump seem intentional. Everybody then averted their attention from him, disappointed that he hadn't sensed his brother's coming energy.

It wasn't until Krillin was just wrapping up his joke, muttering, "And this is the part that King Kai always cracks up at," that Goten sat upright on the sofa. Chi-Chi looked curiously at this sudden good posture and glanced towards Goku, whose eyes were finally open and looking alert. It wasn't for another second that Goten removed his arm from around Valese and stood up slowly, looking intently towards the door.

"Is that...?" he started, trailing off. Goku had a similar expression of confusion on his face, sensing the approaching power. It was unbelievably high, which was why Goten was hesitant when picking up, "Is that Gohan?"

Goku nodded, announcing, "It is Gohan." He pried himself off of the wall, walking towards his younger son. Then, with the two of them standing side-by-side, Goku said, "It's Gohan, but... his power level is incredible!" Breaking out into a smile and turning to Goten, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me that Gohan had become so strong?"

"I didn't know," Goten explained, astounded and not showing the same enthusiasm as his father. Something was wrong; Gohan hadn't trained a day in years, and he was already putting out a stronger energy than Goten could ever dream of having. It felt as intense as their own father's, making Goten wonder what was going on. He knew that Gohan was strong, but he felt sure that he had surpassed him after training so much. It wouldn't be fair if Gohan could be both the strongest and the smartest demi-Saiyan of all; his brother had always managed to outshine him through life, though that had never given him much grief before. However, with their father's return, he wanted his father to think he was worth something and not just the second best.

Eighteen stepped forth from her corner, unable to read energies and thus resorting to listening. Her ears were able to pick up the sound of something bulleting through the air at an insane speed, approaching the Kame House. If that was Gohan, something was indeed off. She jerked Marron off of the sofa and threw her into Krillin's arms, pushing the two of them down to the ground. Everybody watched in shock as Krillin complied and she stepped around the sofa, placing her hand on the front door knob. "I'm going to check it out. There is something wrong."

The awoken Marron was too dazed by the sudden actions to do anything but lay in her father's arms, wondering what had happened. Krillin wasn't sure what she was doing, ruining his punchline like that; he hadn't been paying attention at all to what was happening around him. Seeing what Eighteen did with her family, Goten instinctively followed her lead and pulled Valese gently off of the sofa, walking her around the furniture, and helping her back down to where Marron and Krillin were. It would be best to stay hidden, because Eighteen was right: Gohan's energy wasn't the same, and there was something suspicious about it.

Goku wasn't as shocked by Gohan's energy as the other two, so before Eighteen could leave the house, he grabbed her by the forearm and asked, "Can you sense something that I can't? Right now, I just feel Gohan..."

"No," she said, rather patiently for the android. "I can't sense energies, so I have to use my other senses. But I can hear only one body, not the three that should have come if this was intended to be a family gathering. The way he is flying is forceful and angry. There is something wrong." She shook her wrist out of of grip and exited, leaving Goku to turn to Chi-Chi with an eye raised. But Chi-Chi shook her head stubbornly.

"I'm not scared of my son," she said, crossing her arms with a glint of malice in her eyes. "Nobody can scare me like you can, Goku."

"I would feel better if you'd at least get down to the ground..." he insisted, walking closer towards her.

"No." Her tone was final.

He coaxed the woman, whose black hair was frazzled, "Come on, Chi-Chi; I'm not sure I even believe what Eighteen's saying, but I'd still feel better if you'd hide under your stool or something."

"Is that going to save me from a ki blast?"

"No, but..."

Chi-Chi stood up, her nose turned in the air as she said, "Exactly." She walked towards Goku confidently and said, "Gohan has grown up to be a gentle, caring man, and I can't believe that you all would think anything less of him just because he's hurrying to get here to see you again."

Goku was at a loss, realizing that they had rushed to conclusions rather quickly. He bit his lip, glancing towards Goten who was just looking silly, knowing that he had simply been jumping on the bandwagon. But Eighteen wasn't convinced, listening to their conversation through the cracked door. She could hear the speeding through the waves, the determination radiating from the demi-Saiyan. No, this wasn't just because he was in a hurry to welcome his father. There was definitely something more to this; there was something wrong.


	37. Choked by Reality

**I'll admit that, while I'm writing this, I'm watching the very end of Dragon Ball for the first time, having watched Z and GT first. So... I'll just say that Piccolo isn't a very good guy.**

Yamcha had drifted along rather slowly, having considered several times during his flight to turn back. The increasing energies were making him uneasy, but with each disturbance of the air, he felt his curiosity grow. He needed to go to the Lookout and relieve himself of his creeping suspicions that it might actually have been Vegeta up there, but the suspect power level began dwindling when he had just started his journey. There was still one other mysterious power level, though, that was staying still, not fluctuating at all. The only two noticeable power levels, interestingly enough, became Mr. Popo and Piccolo's, though that seemed odd to the man. There was no reason for those two to raise their levels, unless they were fighting...

When he finally got into view of Kami's lookout, he saw Piccolo standing on the edge, presumably looking at the approaching man. But Yamcha was too far away to notice that the expression on the Namekian's face was one of worry, clearly telling him to go away. By the time he was close enough to see these warnings, he had noticed Dende and Mr. Popo crowding around something with a stranger. It was clearly mysterious power level number one accompanying the genie and Namekian, though he couldn't distinguish who the stranger was.

As he reached the perimeter of the Lookout, Piccolo stalked up to him and yelled, "Yamcha! What are you doing here?" It wasn't anger in his voice, but it was concern, something odd coming from the Namekian's mouth.

"I felt an energy, and I thought there might have been trouble," he explained, landing rather unsteadily on the tile before turning to see the others. At this closer angle, what he saw both shocked and disturbed him, making him stumble forward curiously. There were Dende and Mr. Popo and the mysterious third man, purple-skinned with long, white hair. They were hovering over a body on the ground, which came as quite a surprise, but what he noticed next simply scared him. It was Trunks on the ground, all grown up and simply laying there with blood all over his face and clothes, the others making small talk around his body. Before the three around the corpse could react by stopping him, Yamcha hurried to kneel down next to the body and ask, "What... what happened?" His voice was filled with disbelief, seeing his step-son for the first time in several years, and in such dire circumstances.

"Get away from him," Piccolo demanded, grabbing the man and picking him up easily against his will. Then he set an astounded Yamcha back down on his feet. "Go back home. If you don't, you will die."

Yamcha resisted, ignoring this threat and insisting, "But he's my wife's son! I'm in charge of him; let me bring him back to Bulma! She has to see him!" But Piccolo continued blocking his path, finally grabbing the persistent man by his forearms, clenching his claws into his leathered skin. Yamcha's face dropped in agony, first from seeing the fully grown man so damaged, so like his future counterpart, and then from the pain coursing through his body. He dropped to his knees again as Piccolo released him and stared at his arms, both pierced by the Namekian's dangerous claws.

"Now go. He doesn't want to go with you; he wants to kill you."

Yamcha's breathing increased as he looked into the Namekian's cruel eyes, glazed with the truth. The words pained him, though he realized that the Namekian wasn't lying. It made sense that the boy, the man, would want to kill him, having married his mother. He had always been protective and arrogant, self-serving yet always justifying his actions. Trunks had run away, unable to bear seeing another man with his mother, and returned to kill him. Yamcha had never suspected this, but hearing Piccolo and seeing the boy in the flesh brought about these realizations.

He staggered back up to his feet as Dende rushed towards him, also grabbing him by the forearms. But instead of digging his claws into his skin, Dende held the man's arms gently in his grip, a power radiating from his palms. Yamcha watched in amazement as the scars Piccolo had delivered to him began healing, patching themselves up with threads of skin spinning themselves across the wounds. Within a few seconds, there was no evidence that Piccolo had ever assaulted him.

Before Dende could console the confused man with comforting words, though, Piccolo pushed the Namekian out of the way and grabbed Yamcha by his shoulders. Then, with a sudden fierceness, he lunged his hand towards Yamcha's throat and held him in the air, suffocating him.

Kibito Kai was too stunned to react, simply watching in horror as Dende rushed up to Yamcha, trying to pry him from Piccolo's tight, one-handed grip. Mr. Popo only watched, realizing just what the Namekian was doing and disapproving of the method, but going along with it knowing that it was effective. Piccolo snarled, pushing Dende aside again and swinging the choking Yamcha further away, his face flushed from a lack of air. Then, all of the sudden, Yamcha's tensed body became limp.

Everybody watched in awe as Piccolo gently lowered the body, still holding on to it by the throat. Then Dende backed away, afraid, and muttered, "You didn't kill him, Piccolo." It was true; he could hear the faint beat of the man's heart, struggling to survive.

"Of course I didn't kill him," the Namekian replied, setting him down carefully on the ground. He tore his white cape off of his back and began wrapping the man up in it as he said, "My objective wasn't to kill him. He is going to be out cold for a few days, but he'll be fine after that. He's too strong of a human to die like that."

"Why... why did you choke him?" Dende stuttered, unable to comprehend why his friend had just used such a harsh method for knocking him out.

Piccolo chuckled menacingly, his voice coming from the back of his throat. "If I had just hit a pressure point, he would only be out for a few hours." Mr. Popo nodded knowledgeably, allowing the Namekian to continue, "But by choking him, I'm certain that he'll be out for a few days. He may need hospital care, but I think that he'll pull through. I need him to be out for a few days." He stood up from his wrapping job, and, dusting his hands off, turned to his fellow Namekian and asked, "Do you know what an unconscious man doesn't give out?"

"Breath?" Dende guessed uncertainly, but Kibito Kai stepped forth, finally understanding the plan.

"Energy!" the Kai exclaimed jubilantly, recognizing the strategy. Mr. Popo, the only one by Trunks now, nodded as Piccolo said nothing. But Dende still didn't understand exactly what the Kai meant, so he further explained, "If this man doesn't emit energy, then Trunks won't be able to find him." As Dende finally realized that Piccolo wasn't just some nut, the Kai went on to ask curiously, "But who is this man? What was he in danger of?"

Piccolo grimaced as Mr. Popo said, "This man is Yamcha, Trunks' step-father. If Vegeta never does return, it will most likely be Trunks that kills him." And with these grim words, he pointed towards the demi-Saiyan's body.

"Oh!" the Supreme Kai said for lack of better words, his gaze darting between the two unconscious bodies on the floor. Both were terribly near death, one a ghostly white and the other with blood all over his broken face. Then he stared at Piccolo in true amazement, having never met somebody whose techniques of saving lives were quite so brutal.

* * *

Eighteen walked outside, surprised as her hair flew up in a rush of air. She persisted through the weather, not affected at all by the chill of night. Then she marched down the beach in her boots, tracing footprints that Chi-Chi had left earlier. She examined the circumference of the island, trying to determine exactly where the demi-Saiyan was coming from. She finally ended up right in front of the house again, facing the east. She placed her hands on her hips, hearing Gohan speeding, parting the waves beneath him. The thought scared her as she stared into the black sky, thin clouds lining it.

She showed no alarm as Goku appeared behind her, asking, "Do you really think he's dangerous?"

"Yes," she said, quite matter-of-factly. She continued looking towards the sound's origin and then asked, startling the man, "How good is your nose?" At this, Goku cocked his head curiously. Seeing his confusion, she clarified, "How well can you smell?"

"I can smell really well!" Goku exclaimed enthusiastically, his mind taken off of the threat his son possessed. "Once, when we were kids, Krillin and I had to go find a rock in the forest, and I used my nose to smell it." His face fell as he remembered the rest of the story, and he said, "Of course, I still lost. Krillin got the rock back to Master Roshi before I could, so I didn't get dinner that night." After thinking for a brief second, he explained, "I bet Krillin has a better nose than I do. He must have been able to smell that rock from a mile away!"

Eighteen smirked, refraining from telling the man that her husband probably cheated. As amusing as the tale was, she brought his focus back to the situation at hand by asking, "Can you smell fear?"

She lost him again with this question, as he replied, "I don't know. What does fear smell like?"

She shook her head, staring up towards the partially cloudy sky. She admitted, "Even I'm not sure, but I think your son's afraid. I can sense it in his movements." She closed her eyes then as she paused before resuming, "I think you should go find him. It is you he wants, and I think you can deal with him. I don't want everybody else to be put at risk for something you did."

"I did?" Goku asked uneasily, scratching the back of his head as he watched the blond android. "I didn't do anything, did I?"

She exhaled deeply, saying, "You changed him, Goku. After you left, he became a different man. I never liked him before, but after your departure, he became more cynical and lonesome." Then, without any remorse, she added, "He became like me."

Goku bit his bottom lip, unaware of these changes in Gohan. Nobody had informed me of this when he was gone, or even when he had returned. And now they were all inside, probably listening to Krillin on the floor trying to crack another joke to lighten the mood. If he had known that his son was so broken, he would have come back and taken charge of the family again. He had just always assumed that everything was all right.

He turned towards Eighteen, finally saying, "I think I will go see him." And, suddenly, he jumped into the air, heading quite slowly in the direction he sensed his son's bulleting energy. The android released a breath, watching the Saiyan fly off. She hoped that Goku's level-headed self would be able to rub off on the furious and uncertain Gohan. If the opposite happened, she knew that things could end badly.


	38. Bad Man

**I'll just say that the title of this one holds significance in a pink shirt.**

Mr. Satan stepped out into the courtyard surrounded by walls. He held the album under an arm and reached along the wall, his hand searching for a switch. When he finally found one and flipped it up, the lights lining the exterior walls flooded the courtyard, brightening the space for the first time in months. Some of the bulbs flickered, but within a few seconds, they steadily shone. Mr. Satan smiled as he made his way to his favorite part of the mansion's design, and that was the central garden.

It had been designed by some man that the Briefs girl had used for planning her interior gardens. It consisted of four paths from all sides of the square courtyard leading up to a central fountain, the tallest feature in the space. Water cascaded down gently, a group of coi waiting in the bottom-most section. The fish had been put in place years ago as a present for Pan, but they had kept them even as she grew older, not as interested in them. Even Mr. Satan, before twisting his back, enjoyed running his hand through the fountain's water or feeding the fish bread, even though the grounds caretaker had warned him not to lest it clog the fountain's pipes.

That fountain had been designated as the highest point in the garden, only low shrubs and tamed flowerbeds being planted around. He hadn't wanted any trees out there so, when lightly training, he could have a perfect view of the sky to tell what time it was. But now there was nothing but low clouds in the sky, no moon or sun to even give him the slightest inkling of what part of the night it was. And Mr. Satan now preferred it that way; he didn't feel as rushed as he used to, meaning he could stay here until he needed to fall asleep.

The champion sat down on the grassy lawn and patted a seat next to him for Buu, the creature obliging. He plopped down on the ground as his pink fat jiggled to a rest. It was then that Mr. Satan dropped one of the albums in front of the two of them, setting the others aside. Buu stared in awe at the shiny, leather cover, releasing an amazed 'ooh' as Mr. Satan flipped it open to the first page.

"Page one of my life," the wrestler announced, pointing to a picture of a baby with wispy, black ringlets perched on his pink head. "I was a pretty darn cute baby, huh? All of my mama's friends used to coddle me, always telling my mama how jealous they were." He sighed as Buu placed his hands in his lap, watching with intrigue. He could already feel sentimental waterworks behind his eyelids, but he bit them back, unwilling to let his only friend think that he was a wimp. So, trying to throw some humor in there, he added, "It must be where Pan and Videl get their looks."

Buu listened attentively to the champions narrative as he guided the large, pink creature through that first album. It featured him as a young child, his mother being fond enough of him to bind all of these memories together in a book. He smirked as he glanced down to find one picture of himself at the ripe age of five, a cardboard box over his head. Buu gasped, pointing to it, "Why Mr. Satan have box on head? He okay?"

"Yeah, I was okay," Hercule comforted his friend, placing his hand over the picture. "I was a little kid back then, and we didn't have a lot of money. I told my mama that I was going to be one of those astronauts and go to the moon." His face fell a little as he continued, "But then, only a few years later, some martial artist decided to go blow up the moon!" He laughed a little, "If Goku was here, I'd ask him if he knew what happened. He was into this martial arts stuff a lot longer than I was."

"What the moon?" Buu asked, his forehead creased as he tried imagining just what Mr. Satan was talking about. But at that question, the champion could only gasp, astounded.

"What's the moon?" Hercule repeated, "What's the moon?" His voice was incredulous as he stuttered, "Well, it's... it's... it's this big, round, white thing in the sky! And I was going to go to it! And, when I was a teenager, the moon actually did come back! Only, a few years later, it exploded again." He shook his head and muttered, flipping through the pages, "I can't believe you don't know what the moon is..."

Buu looked away, abashed, as he apologized, "Buu sorry, Mr. Satan..."

"Don't be sorry!" Hercule said, flipping through the pages again, looking for a certain picture. "It's not your fault! It's just... sad! It's sad that you don't know what the moon is, because it's such a pretty thing to look at!" He finally located the picture on one of the pages near the end and pointed to it, saying, "There, that's the moon." It was a picture of him, almost eight years old, sitting outside during the night with the moon nigh. He grinned to himself, remembering those nights that he and his mama would wait for the full moon to reach its apex in the sky.

To his surprise, Buu poked the picture eagerly, pointing towards the moon and crying, "Buu see that! Buu see that!" Mr. Satan furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him as he continued, "Buu travel to space and see that!"

"You... you traveled to space?" the man asked incredulously, his voice thin with the thought. He hadn't given much thought as to where Buu had disappeared off to in the six months he was lying in bed, but now he could only wonder if the creature was telling the truth. To clarify, he repeated, "Majin Buu, you traveled to space?"

"Yes!" Buu said excitedly, leaping back up to his feet. "Buu travel to space and see moon and see bad man with tail!"

"Bad man with... tail?"

"Yes! Mean man who come for party and stand alone! Bad man!"

Mr. Satan blinked, looking up at the fat, pink thing. He placed his head in his hand and muttered, "A mean man who comes over for parties and stands alone? And... and he has a tail?"

"Yes! Yes!" Buu was now clapping his hands excitedly, saying, "Bad man with tail! Bad man with tail! Buu see bad man with tail in space! Bad man with 'M' on head! Bad man who blow up! Bad man who bring Buu no present!"

Hercule shook his head, having no clue of what his friend was talking of. He didn't know anybody with a tail, and he certainly had never gone to a party with somebody fitting this peculiar description. Trying to steer the conversation away from this strange topic, he picked up another album and began displaying it, quickly capturing Buu's attention again.

* * *

Gohan sped on, pressing faster than he had in years. Without his wife and daughter to slow him down, he could move more quickly than the average eye could see, appearing as just a blur streaking across the dark sky. He felt invincible at that moment, adrenaline pounding through his veins for the first time in many years. He hadn't felt this confident since that day Elder Kai boosted his power tremendously. And now, with that strength his father had helped him obtain years ago, he would defeat him.

The black-haired man clenched his teeth together furiously, sensing an energy suddenly heading towards him. It was his father; there was no doubt about it. He was glad that the man was intelligent enough to meet his son out in the middle of the ocean instead of at the Kame House, able to keep everybody safe. With this unrelenting anger that was building inside, Gohan didn't care who stood in his way, as long as he could do as much damage as possible.

It was within only a few minutes that Gohan noticed a speck in the distance and, unable to brake, he continued flying towards the speck. It was his father waiting for him, just hovering there. But Gohan, not used to flying at such a tremendous speed, simply couldn't stop. He continued bulleting forwards, realizing that both his strength and speed were getting out of hand with years of not using them. He had forgotten how to take charge and allowed them to get the best of him, making a fool out of himself in front of his father. He wasn't even given a chance to say the threats he had been thinking up on his way to intimidate his father, as his body was moving so quickly it took the air out of his lungs.

Goku watched his approaching son in confusion, wondering why he wasn't stopping to talk matters over. He watched as Gohan continued heading straight for him, head-first, with no signs of slowing down. He held his arms out warily, aiming to catch his son in case he was trying to fly past and avoid his father all together.

But Gohan wasn't trying to avoid his father; he was simply having trouble stopping. He gritted his teeth together and tried putting himself in an upright position to break his speed, but it didn't seem to stop him quickly enough. It was when he was only a few feet in front of his father that he finally pulled himself to a halt, Goku's hands cautiously in front of him.

Unable to speak and panting, Gohan was forced to listen as Goku cocked his head and folded his arms, asking as if he had only been gone for a few days, "How are you?"


	39. Revealing Anxieties

**Some Piccolo time! Gohan and Goku will return next chapter, but I've figured that there have been too many questions brought up about Piccolo. The majority of this chapter's logic doesn't make much sense, but it will in due time. Don't try taking much from it; it's just Piccolo having words put into his mouth.  
**

Yamcha was laying just a few feet from Trunks, partially wrapped up in Piccolo's white cape with only his pale face exposed. Piccolo approached the older man and gently kicked a flap of cloth over his face, keeping it out of sight. Then he turned to Mr. Popo, the only seemingly competent one in the crowd, and asked with a scowl on his face, "Where do you think I should put the body? I need it to be far enough away so that, when we revive Trunks, he won't be able to find Yamcha under any circumstance."

Kibito Kai raised a white eyebrow and, with his fists on his hips, inquired, "Do we even need to revive Trunks? It seems as if he's only causing trouble around here."

The Namekian smirked, unable to believe that he had gotten both a Supreme Kai and the Guardian of the Earth to think of killing as the wisest move. But he shook his head and looked down at Trunk's body sprawled on the tiled floor and said, "Yes, we need to revive Trunks. He is physically incapable of doing any damage, as I just pointed out. Even you were able to take him on, at least until he powered up. And I can't kill him; he's the last of a race of peoples. I don't want to be the one to exterminate the Saiyans."

Dende's jaw dropped at this as he asked, "But... weren't you ready to kill Goku?" Then he exclaimed incredulously with his hands thrown disbelievingly into the air, "He's a full-fledged Saiyan, for Kami's sake!" After this outburst, he realized quite awkwardly that he had sworn on his own name's sake. He withdrew himself a few steps as Piccolo chuckled slightly, darkly.

"Goku is a completely different case!" he argued, his teeth bared in a ghost of a smile as he kept his eyes glued on to Trunks' body. He crossed his arms and explained, "He may be a Saiyan, but he's also a threat! His strength is beyond what the rest of us can even imagine; if any of these half-Saiyans tried fighting him, they'd be dead!" He nudged Trunks' body a bit with his shoe to ensure that he was truly knocked out. The man didn't react, though, so he turned back to the group. "Trunks' misbehaving is something he was trained into, meaning that he can be trained out of it. We find that evidence with his future counterpart, who was an all-around better man than this one." Then, with a snort, "I doubt this one can even ascend."

Kibito Kai nodded with understanding, but Dende wasn't ready to give up this fight. He stepped forth again, saying, "I still don't get why you think Goku's such a threat. I only suggested killing him because there's nothing left for him to do on this planet, but you seem to have completely different motives. What's scaring you so much, Piccolo?"

Turning his back to them in a move that was less dramatic without the cape swishing around at his ankles, he huffed impatiently, "I've already told you, Dende." The other Namekian cocked his head curiously as he continued, "This involves his marriage to Chi-Chi. I'm only going to explain this one more time, so listen up.

"Goku came back this morning expecting his wife and sons to open him with their arms extended. Only he found me, and I told him that Chi-Chi was remarried. The way he reacted to that confirmed my fears that he wasn't going to take this the right way; he tried powering up, trying to ascend even higher with anger in his heart. Only he passed out. Now, this tells me one of two things. First off, he's angry. Secondly, he didn't see Chi-Chi's remarrying as a loss, but rather as an opportunity to power up to a new extreme. This is all still a game to him, you see.

"But as soon as he realizes that he's really lost her, I'm afraid that he will come to his senses and naturally fight back for her. Only the man in question that he has to fight is an extremely old man, one who, I believe, has trouble even getting around on his own. Let's say that, even by accident, he kills the old man. Do you know what happens next?" Nobody spoke up, so he pressed on, "An army forms, that's what happens. An army with technology designed by the greatest of scientists, employed by the greatest of fighters, or at least by Earthly standards. And do you know who they will target?"

"Us," Dende uttered, a disturbed expression on his green face.

"And do you know who they will kill?"

"Us," Dende repeated, but Piccolo shook his head.

"No. No matter how great their technology has advanced, there's no way that they'll be able to take out even the weakest of our fighters. But they will kill hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians, starting war where it's unnecessary. The whole planet's state will be in turmoil, human against human, man versus man. It will be complete anarchy, and even Kami," he sneered, jabbing Dende's pride, "won't be able to do a thing about it."

Kibito Kai finally suggested, "What about the Dragon Balls? Can't you all wish for world peace?"

Mr. Popo chortled in the background at that prospect as Piccolo snapped, "This is serious, Supreme Kai! There is no joking involved in this; the state of the planet may be in complete chaos by the end of this week if nothing is done about this."

Kibito Kai's face flushed as he murmured weakly, "I was serious..."

But Piccolo ignored the Supreme Kai, announcing, "The Dragon Balls can't even grant 'world peace'. The dragon, Shenron, can only grant wishes within the creator's power. Do you really think Dende, of all Guardians, can grant 'world peace'?"

Dende, who had been nodding along with what Piccolo was saying, frowned as Piccolo yet again made his point at his expense. Kibito Kai, intimidated by Piccolo's looming height and bared canine teeth, stuttered, "I suppose not..."

"Now," Piccolo continued, as if the Kai had never even touched the subject of world peace, "let's just say that we were planning on using the Dragon Balls. What's the problem with that?" The two of them shrugged, afraid of the Namekian. Only Mr. Popo continued standing back there, listening with his arms confidently folded. "It would be the Red Ribbon Army all over again; they would begin their conquest of Dragon Balls, seeing the power they obtain. Wars would be revitalized, tearing the planet apart."

"But wouldn't there already be wars from Goku just killing this rich man?" Dende asked, seeing a few holes in the Namekian's theory.

"Yes, but there would be more."

"Would wars really start because of this rich man's death, or would it be because of everybody remembering what the Dragon Balls are?"

"The Dragon Balls, I suppose..."

"Then why don't we just not use the Dragon Balls?"

Piccolo shot a death glare at the Namekian and growled, "This is like talking to five-year-olds..." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to control his temper, clenching his hands into fists with his claws digging into his palms. He gritted his teeth as he breathed out slowly, and both Dende and the Supreme Kai backed away. Then he walked up to Yamcha's body again, hoisting it in one swift movement over his shoulder. He turned to Mr. Popo and, with his anger simmering, asked, "Where should I take him?"

The genie shrugged and suggested, "Perhaps to Yunzabit Heights? The wind might tear him up a bit there, but I'm fairly certain that Trunks would never suspect him to be there."

"To the ends of the Earth?" Piccolo asked. It was a place of his own history, where the Nameless Namek's ship had landed from Namek. It was there that he had landed on Earth, there that he had begun his journey of becoming both the Guardian of Earth and a demon king. It was marked by scars, cliffs, and treacherous tempests. He knew that it was a place of great peril, but as his eyes roamed from the current Guardian of the Earth to the unconscious Trunks, he nodded his head, feeling his rage return. Knowing that he couldn't do anything to anybody else, he looked back at Mr. Popo and demanded, "You take him there. I may have landed there years ago, but I certainly don't know where it is."

Mr. Popo nodded, accepting Yamcha's covered body as Piccolo passed it to him. Then, freeing one hand from his hold around the body, he snapped and his carpet appeared. He planted his two feet firmly and plopped down, setting Yamcha down in his lap. Then, with another snap, he was gone.

Piccolo released a heavy sigh as he stared at the spot the genie had disappeared from as Dende approached him cautiously, apologizing, "I didn't mean to make you angry... I just don't understand. How could you think that Goku's a bad guy? All he's ever done is help people, and he's just trying to find his place in life." His voice had come out far more meek than he had expected, but it managed to convey both the sorrow and fear he felt. It was enough to make Piccolo spin around again and look at the Namekian, though his face wasn't kind. His forehead was creased with frustration as he shook his head, his arms crossed.

"If you have to understand, I'll try explaining everything one more time." He held a green forefinger up threateningly, displaying it for the two remaining to see. "But this is it. And no stupid questions this time." They both gave their full attention to him, eager to redeem themselves. No matter how much older the Supreme Kai was than the Namekian, there was no denying that he had valuable input. And now he regretted starting the Namekian's persisting foul mood by ignoring him when he was giving an update on the happenings of Earth. Now was the time to listen as the Namekian stood before them, his face relaxing as he confessed, "There is nothing that scares me more than Goku."

And so the story began.


	40. Thirst and Hunger

**I've realized that the demi-Saiyans are all on different sides of the 'Father' spectrum. Gohan hates his dad so much that he's gone insane, Trunks loves his dad so much that he's gone insane, and Goten's just sort of chilling in the middle. Anyways, enjoy!**

Goku was uncertain of what to say. He was told by Eighteen that his son had developed a thirst for blood, whereas Chi-Chi refused to listen to such statements and insisted that he was the polite, well-behaved boy he had been years ago. So, with his son hovering before him, recovering his breath, all that Goku had asked was, "How are you?" They were the only words he could think of to greet his son, but by the incredulous look he was being given, he had a feeling that they were the wrong words to say.

Gohan had stayed a handsome man with the passing years, his age not affecting his looks in the slightest. His hair was black and the same cut as Goten's, being short and out of his face. His face was free of wrinkles save for a few stress lines on his forehead and the beginnings of frown lines around his mouth. His eyes were as dark as ever, but Goku could sense something different about them. They lacked the luster they had contained years ago.

It startled Goku when Gohan dipped his head down for breath, but when he looked back up, his face was contorted in a sneer. That was when he realized that Eighteen was perhaps right about his son; there was something wrong in the glare he was sending his father, the fury in his eyes. His jaw was set in place as he gazed at his father, partially amazed by what he saw. There were no changes in his father's appearance; he wasn't the older man he had been expecting. If anything, he looked healthier and stronger than ever before. And this scared Gohan, being something he hadn't calculated into his estimate of easily overpowering the Saiyan. Gohan refused to display this fear, though, and covered it with a snarl.

"Does it matter how I am?" Gohan said, his voice low and harsh. The proximity between the two prevented him from yelling, though he wanted to. He could manage his emotions better than that, knowing it would be better to conserve his energy for more important matters. But he decided that he'd continue, trying to drop his father's defensive barriers, "It's not as if you've ever cared about how we've been these few years. You were gone for so long, I wasn't sure that you even remembered us."

"Gohan..." he started, expecting the beginnings of this tirade from somebody since his return. It just happened to be his son, which caught him a bit off-guard. But Gohan wouldn't let him finish, cutting him off without a deep sigh as he was still recuperating from his flight.

After breathing ruggedly for a few seconds, Gohan asked closed his eyes, trying to control his anger. It had been something Piccolo had taught him to do all of those years ago. If he could control his emotions, he could focus his energy on his attacks. However, he couldn't help but slip, "I don't care about what you have to say, Father." His piercing, dark eyes flashed open as he clenched his fists, gritting his teeth and crying, "I'm going to make you pay!"

Goku watched with his shoulders back as Gohan pressed his lips together and looked up to the cloudy, moonless sky. He could feel the energy before he could see it; Gohan's hair immediately stood up on ends as a golden aura wrapped around him and lit up the night. He crossed his large arms while examining his son, wondering if he had finally learned to break his limitations and ascend to Super Saiyan Three. With the amount of grunting the man was doing, Goku couldn't expect any less. But he was quickly disappointed as Gohan panted, stopping the power-up with his eyes shutting, already seeing a losing battle before it even started.

Gohan had been hoping that, even without the necessary years of practice, he would be able to go beyond what even his father had, having more natural talent than any of the other fighters. But this hope was shortsighted, and he knew that now he had been a fool. He may have become more powerful than his arrogant brother, always flaunting off his strength to impress, but he knew now that his father had him beaten. He could barely even achieve Super Saiyan Two, and he was already out of breath, out of energy. He shook his head and considered reverting to his normal self, throwing in the towel.

But he remembered that he couldn't give in on this fight. This was the fight to make his father regret abandoning his family, to make his father pay back for being absent all of those years of his childhood. For Goten's childhood. For Pan's childhood. For all of his mother's life. This was the fight that would make him remember what his job was supposed to be. He was supposed to take care of the family, be the breadwinner. But Goku had done neither of these things, leaving to train for his own selfish purposes. His father had never cared for them.

With these thoughts, he recalled that, as a child, his energy had run rampant with emotion. He decided that dropping his control over himself would be the best way to gain power; only blind rage would guide him successfully through this battle. As quickly as he had remembered to use them, he dropped Piccolo's teachings of self-control, knowing that it was his only chance at survival. And in a battle like this one, the only definition to survival was winning. And winning meant killing, if he could bring himself to do it.

Goku actually had to jump back as he saw Gohan double over, as if in pain. He considered consoling his son, but then he felt a sudden boost in his son's ki. It became even larger than the one he had felt at the Kame House, making him just stare at his son, actually amazed. Goku had been expecting the transformation to Super Saiyan, but this was remarkable; when Gohan looked back up, he looked the exact same. Only now, Goku could see the rough determination in his eyes, coarse and unrefined. He could feel a power being untapped, one that didn't change his physical appearances at all. It was a familiar power, one that he had only just encountered that day.

And then he remembered. It was Elder Kai's energy that he was feeling, reminding him of the power-up the old Kai had given his son all of those years ago. Goku shook his head, knowing that these powers added to the emotional Gohan were not a pleasant mixture. It was then that he realized that this battle might be a bit more challenging than expected, having never fought an Ultimate Super Saiyan Two before.

He was only glad that Gohan hadn't achieved the Super Saiyan Three form.

* * *

Videl bit her bottom lip as she stopped hesitantly, almost reaching land. Pan was slung over her shoulders, dozing lightly as her mother made the trip back to the Satan mansion. She felt a large direction in the energy they were coming from, knowing it was Gohan. He had either found his father or was becoming frustrated, which she knew would be extremely dangerous. She looked down past her dangling feet, acknowledging the deep blue waters with relief. At least Gohan was out at sea releasing his anger and not in a city, where she knew several innocents could have their lives at risk.

She considered turning around to ensure that all was going okay, but she prevented herself from following this urge. She knew that she would be of no help; Gohan had taken to ignoring her even when she knew what was best, and if he was this furious, she knew that there was little to no chance that he would even notice her. And she wouldn't have been able to take Pan back to such danger. Yes, she could have trusted that Pan could find her way back home and fly, but Pan wasn't a very good flier anyways; she was wobbly, and with the hope that she even knew her way back, something terrible could have happened. The girl had never practiced flight while the sky was so dark, and Videl wasn't sure of how good her vision was, a quarter Saiyan or not.

So with these rational thoughts cycling through her brain, she picked up her flight again. Whatever Gohan chose to do, she hoped he chose wisely.

* * *

"Buu hungry," the pink creature proclaimed as he looked up into the window, seeing one of the maids pass through an interior corridor. "Buu want candy now." He stood up and brushed his yellow gloves together, trying to remove any dirt. "Buu go make candy."

Hercule's eyes opened as he saw his friend walk towards the nearest door, knowing exactly what was on the creature's mind. He dropped the album from his hands and scurried on legs up to the pink blob, exclaiming, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Buu stopped in his place, looking down at Hercule as he said, "Let's not get anything to eat right now!" He gulped, knowing that his palate consisted of all things, flesh and bone. But Buu was persistent, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Buu want to eat now."

Hercule's eyes traveled along the wall, searching for ideas before saying, "You know, Majin Buu, if you can wait for five minutes, I'll have one of my chefs whip you up a nice treat! You just have to wait right there, all patient-like." He held his hands out, his voice shaky. He had forgotten all about Buu's tendency to turn his staff into candy when he was hungry; he was surprised that he could hire help at all with the number that had 'mysteriously disappeared' over the years.

Buu nodded his head, saying, "Okay!" With that, Hercule ran off as quickly as his legs could take him, trying to find somebody to put together a tasty treat for the pink eater. And as he waited, Buu stared up into the sky and muttered, "Moon come back. Bad man tell me. Mr. Satan can go to moon soon. Mr. Satan be happy!"

He smiled placidly, now waiting for his treat. He would leave the fact that the moon was coming back as a surprise to Mr. Satan. It would be a fun game for him to play, and he was certain that Mr. Satan would be happy when it was finally there. The bad man with the tail had promised as much.


	41. The Namekian's Story

**Piccolo's explanation. He thinks along the same lines as Eighteen.**

"There is nothing that scares me more than Goku."

These words caught the attention of both the Supreme Kai and the Guardian of Earth, huddled around the Namekian like schoolboys. Piccolo ignored their eagerness and, stepping over Trunks' bloody body, put greater distance between the others and himself. This wasn't meant to be a story; they were his musings for the past few years now, and he wanted to make sure that the two didn't miss a detail. His thoughts and worries were not to be taken lightly, because even he knew that if he let something tackle his brain for so long, there was something wrong. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the two before him to help explain what was happening. And the only way to do that was by sharing.

"I've known him far longer than either of you have, ever since my past life as the evil King Piccolo. I reigned, certain that I could not be taken down. My memory is faulty from this time, as it's my father's memories lodged into my own brain, but I've tried saving every last moment in my head. If I remember correctly, and I never had this verified by Goku, I managed to destroy Shenron. I'm not completely sure of how; I believe it to have been with a powerful incantation or something of that sort, never transferred in my thoughts. But I did destroy Shenron along with many fighters that I might now even call my 'friends'."

He uttered this last word sourly, folding his arms as he looked up into the cloudy sky. "I was unstoppable. I destroyed every martial artist I could find, or at least until I found a young Goku. My memory fails me here, but I know that I was destroyed. I, or rather, my father's parting gift was an egg lodged deep inside him, which he spit out into the farthest reaches of the planet. Then, I was born.

"I had an instinct for evil, given my history. I was small, but I could effectively destroy small towns and homes with ease. I grew up quickly, as all Namekians do, but unaware of my heritage." Dende nodded here, remembering his fleeting childhood, too. "I thought I was simply a freak." Those words were said with such bitterness that he flinched, unaware that even he had felt such resentment for that time. But he continued, trying to lose the biting edge, "So I grew up, only knowing how to destroy and with only one goal in mind: to enter the next World Martial Arts Tournament and destroy Goku.

"The time came, and I slipped through the preliminary rounds with ease, only Goku recognizing me. I saw him fight, hardly impressed. But I knew that there was more, so I waited, analyzing each of his tactics. They were clearcut and precise. He had actually become a fairly talented fighter, but I was certain that I held the advantage. Being human, as I thought he was at the time, had its limitations. But I knew endless tricks, never ending in my bag of fun." Dende flushed at this dark humor, his skin becoming pale as he wondered exactly what Piccolo had done so long ago to be deemed a villain. The Piccolo he knew was one of the most respectable fighters he knew. Sure, he was mislead, but he was determined. And he knew that it was this determination that scared him.

"I had learned all of the tricks of the trade in my three years of life. I had mastered techniques most martial artists could only dream of; I could shoot beams out of my eyes, use ki blasts, and even grow to the size of skyscrapers. But that wasn't enough. Even my capturing Kami by deflecting his Evil Containment Wave was foiled by the brat, having plunged into my throat in my giant form and retrieved the bottle my other half was trapped in. No, the boy was invincible. Even when I shot him through the chest, he continued fighting, actually beating me. He beat me, the unstoppable Piccolo. I was ashamed.

And then, instead of stomping a threat like myself out, he gave me a Senzu Bean." Piccolo snorted here as the other stared incredulously at him, unable to believe what they were hearing. "He healed me, making me promise that we would fight again. I wasn't sure if he was in his right mind at the time, but I later learned why he was so determined to keep fighting. After his brother Raditz came down and explained that he was a Saiyan, I immediately began connecting the two. He had inherited the fighting spirit, but I knew that wasn't the only thing. It was his pride."

He paused there, turning back to them and stepping back over Trunks' body. Dende was only staring there, dumbfounded, as Kibito Kai furrowed his forehead in thought. Seeing that neither of them had anything to contribute, Piccolo continued, "All Saiyans have pride, but they're all different. Take Vegeta for example: his pride was in his race, and it was extreme. If there was anything challenging his pride, both personal and racial, he would go to any lengths to destroy it. But Goku's pride is in the spirit of battling. He always has to prove himself better, never taking advantage of any opponent. He will go to any length to make a battle equal, even going so far as to giving the upperhand to his opponent for humility. Whether it's healing an opponent or allowing them to reach their strongest forms, he has to be certain that he can defeat somebody not by luck or by prevailing circumstances. He must be the one to win.

"And so, even in Goku, his pride may be his biggest downfall. It may be what make him trip, falling flat on his face. It certainly has been proven that Saiyans do develop dangerous obsessions quite easily, and with Vegeta, pride had been the reason. There is a strong possibility that Goku may become insane, as you've just seen one demi-Saiyan just do." He pointed to Trunks as Dende began stuttering, but he held his hand up to silence the Namekian. "I don't care what you have to say about Goku being different from the rest of the Saiyans. There is no difference besides a bump on the head."

He paced to the edge of Kami's Lookout, the others' eyes scrutinizing his movements as their ears scrutinized his words. Before they could completely process what he had just said, he continued, "There is an insanity that rests in all Saiyans, believe it or not. It's only waiting to be reawakened, and I fear that this is the waking point for Goku. He has the mind of a child, but as soon as he realizes that this game of pretending to be Chi-Chi's husband his over, I know that he will be upset. He will be angrier than he was even today when he ascended to his Super Saiyan Three form. He will not be able to be controlled. And, when he can't be subdued by food or sleep, I'm afraid that he may just destroy the world, one way or another. That was why I wanted him to stay away from Chi-Chi, to keep this from even becoming a possibility. But I know that I'm too late."

Dende blinked for a few seconds before asking nervously, "So... you think that Goku will kill Chi-Chi's rich husband?" He had said those words almost verbatim just a bit earlier, but Dende wanted to know that he understood correctly. It was so out of character, Dende couldn't see how that would even be a possibility.

Piccolo chuckled slightly, "Yes, I do think there's a chance of that. When Saiyans are blinded by emotion," and, again, he pointed to Trunks, "they can't think clearly. Their minds are fuddled, tempered with, and they do things they would never normally do. And that's what I fear will happen with Goku when he realizes that he truly loves Chi-Chi." He said these last words distastefully, having never experienced the human emotion of love. Whatever it was, he knew that it made the strongest of men fall weak at their knees, making him glad to be a Namekian. "I was barely alive by this point, but when Goku became a Super Saiyan, it was because he had lost his best friend. Admittedly, it seems as if Krillin is just destined to die, but his death did help defeat Frieza. But I'm afraid that the next ascension Goku makes, if he does, will not be for such a noble reason. I think that he'll use it to stamp out Chi-Chi's husband, regret it, wish for him back, and have the whole world know what Dragon Balls are again."

"But we've used the dragon in the past with no problems," Dende pointed out, knowing that people simply thought it was an illusion cast into the sky by 'those rich folks at Capsule Corp.'. But Piccolo shook his head with a rare patience.

"Yes, but his death would be global. It's different when everybody dies or when only a small group of rather unimportant individuals die at a World Martial Arts Tournament, but when an extremely influential man dies in his home with several witnesses claiming to have seen a Super Saiyan Three, things don't look good."

"But we've had to wish back for than just a couple of 'individuals' before," Dende said. "Is this man really so important that his death would be more remarkable than half a tournament audience getting blasted by Vegeta?"

"This man is one of the richest men on this half of the planet, though he tries to keep that fact secretive. I don't know his name, but I do happen to know that he has many, many connections. He's not a bad man, but I do think bad things would happen if he was killed. The media would become interested in the glowing man, or as Gohan forced upon the race, the Golden Fighters. The governments of Earth would begin investigating the Saiyans and their cohorts, like myself. They might begin tracking us, trying to find out about our lives. And if they want to kill us, to extinguish the threat we possess, they would begin by sending assassins in, but as soon as they realized their ineffectiveness, they would send in armies. They would be armies of violence, of destruction, trained to leave innocents behind but failing in that aspect. And when they spent years trying to find and fight us, the citizens would begin to grow weary of war, lashing out and battling one another. It would be the end of Earth."

Dende opened his mouth to reply to this tirade, but nothing came out. So he quickly shut it as Kibito Kai stepped forth and asked, "Why don't you just use the Dragon Balls to first wish this rich man back to life, and then to wipe everybody's slates free of this event?"

Piccolo smirked, amused by the ignorance these two were showing. "Do you not remember the last time we used the Dragon Balls to erase everybody's memories?" The Supreme Kai raised an eyebrow, uncertain of what the Namekian was talking about. "When we used them to erase everybody's memories of Buu, we ended up with a population of clueless humans. Nobody had any idea of what was going on, having no idea of how their towns were destroyed or their houses obliterated. And there was no explanation we could offer. Seeing as you probably haven't visited Earth in that time, I'll just tell you that there are still books being written about what might have happened in those few days that the world simply forgot." He shook his head then, and said, "I sometimes wonder if privacy is becoming too much to ask for.

"We're on the losing side. We can't stop Goku because he's too powerful, but we can't lash out at civilians if they come after us. Even I, the once great and evil Demon King Piccolo, now refuse to destroy whoever they may send to destroy us. I'm afraid we've lost."

"But this is all theoretical, isn't it?" Dende said, trying to cheer up his fellow Namekian. "There is no definite coming of these events. Who's to say that Goku will even want Chi-Chi back? Who's to say that he'll kill her wealthy husband to get her back? Who's to say that they'll send an army after us? This is all just your mind, Piccolo, and you've let your worries take you over. I, for one, am confident that Goku knows best. He's not like other Saiyans. He's the good guy."

"You can tell yourself that, but there are no promises," Piccolo warned, looking back down at the demi-Saiyan on the ground. "I can only present hunches, but I think I'm right. Goku will lose control of himself, and the Red Ribbon Army will be resurrected."


	42. Humiliation's Toll

**Ha ha, it seems more and more often that the moral of this story is 'Don't mess with your elders'. May I get a Kamehame ha ha ha?  
**

Krillin was the first to stand back up off of the floor, sensing Gohan's threatening energy as staying a good distance away. He didn't want to move the two ladies behind the couch with him yet, just in case the demi-Saiyan decided to continue all the way to the Kame House. Because, now that Krillin had stopped telling his joke, he knew that there was something odd about Gohan's energy. It was the first time he had felt it spike in years, and it definitely felt different. And it wasn't a good kind of different.

He wondered what had stopped Gohan in the midst of his coming. He hoped that Eighteen hadn't gone to deal with him, because Gohan had always been powerful, and he didn't know if even she could handle him. But, to his relief, he felt a slight rise in a certain energy next to his, which happened to be Goku's. He sighed, "Phew, I guess your dad's gone to sort things out. They'll be back in a minute, I'm sure, after talking things over."

"It's more than just talking." Goten gritted his teeth, unable to believe the power that Gohan was emitting. His older brother was far more powerful than he had ever known him to be. He wasn't sure if his father knew what he was doing or if he would even be able to handle such an opponent.

Goten began sprinting to the door, only to have Krillin latch his hand on to his shoulder. He exclaimed, "Woah, what do you think you're doing?" Though far stronger the the older man, Goten was still restrained by his hold, if even for a second, as Krillin said, "There's nothing you can do out there; I hate to admit it, but your brother's power level is pretty high."

"Pretty high?" Goten said, turning his back to the door as he crossed his arms and Krillin released him. "I'd say that it's through the roof! I've never felt anybody's energy shoot up as quickly as that!"

"Don't worry, bro," Krillin said, trying to relieve the man. He guided him all the way back to the sofa, forcing him to plop down. "You obviously don't remember your dad's strength. He's pretty close to invincible, and he's been that way ever since he was a small kid. You'll only get in his way if you go."

Goten sighed and nodded, knowing the short man was right. Krillin then proceeded to smirk, placing his hands on his hips and proud to have been somebody with such power's best friend. "You have no idea of how strong your dad is. He's the best chance we've got, and I don't care what he's done in the past. He's the best hero on Earth, or even in the universe."

"Too bad he's a better hero than he is a husband," Chi-Chi added sourly, but Krillin ignored her.

"He'll get your brother back to normal. Your dad doesn't disappoint."

* * *

Goku grunted as Gohan slammed his body into his side, not being given the chance to power up. He spiraled downwards, getting dangerously close to the cold water as Gohan threw blasts of energy at him. But Goku managed to pull himself to a stop and hold his arms in front of his face, blocking each simple ki blast with a yelp. He took this time to gather energy, his golden hair flaring up as he became also became a Super Saiyan Two. Gohan growled at this transformation, assuring himself that he wouldn't give his father enough time to become a Super Saiyan Three. So, with this promise, he lunged downwards at his father, taking Goku by complete surprise.

Before Goku could react, Gohan had headbutted into his stomach, sending him in the direction of the Kame House. But Goku pulled his body so that he flipped, projecting himself back in the direction of his son. With a boot to the head, Goku sent Gohan spinning the other way. As Gohan sent more ki blasts during his descent even closer to the waves, Goku deflected each one and called, "Son! I don't want to have to hurt you!" He clenched his eyes shut as one of the blasts evaded his arms and hit him squarely in the face, but by the time he opened them again, Gohan had disappeared.

It was then that he felt a pointed black shoe jab his spine, making him arch his back with such a sensitive spot being targeted. Gohan took this to his advantage, punching his father in the jaw and sending him cartwheeling through the air. By the time Goku managed to steady himself again, Gohan was behind him once more, about to repeat what he had just done. But Goku was already getting bed up with this fight, and angrily, he reached behind his back and grabbed Gohan's leg while in the midst of the kick. Then he swung his son's body over his head single-handedly, sending him soaring upwards through the air in bewilderment. He waved his arms wildly through the air, trying to stop this sharp ascent, but Goku had already gotten to him. He grabbed his arm, pulling his son to a stop, and insisted once more, "Stop it, Gohan! I don't want to fight you!"

Gohan only ignored his father's plea and, with Goku off-guard, swung his knee into Goku's gut. As Goku clenched his stomach, queasy after having just eaten all of the food in Roshi's fridge, Gohan freed himself from his grasp and jumped back, cupping his hands together menacingly. Goku's eyes widened as he recognized what technique he was about to use to try to destroy him: the lethal Kamehameha wave.

"Ka me..." Gohan chanted, pulling his arms back, "ha..." He gritted his teeth furiously, unable to take joy in what he was doing, "me..." And with a final push of his arms, he yelled, "ha!" Goku ducked under his arms, crossed to defend himself against the blue beam of light. But the beam didn't present the same results as either of them believed it would.

When Goku pulled his arms out from over his face, the air having stopped vibrating from the impact, Goku looked at his own body to make sure of what had really happened. The wave hadn't affected him in the slightest; his clothes were slightly singed, but other than that, there was nothing. No damage, no bruises, no cuts, no bleeding. Nothing. Gohan's mouth hung ajar, unable to believe that his strongest attack, as an Ultimate Super Saiyan Two, no less, had done nothing to his father.

After exchanging a shocked look with his son, Goku's face broke out into a grin as he held his stomach, laughing, "Ha! That's really your strongest Kamehameha? That's... that's pathetic!" His chuckles filled the sky as Gohan simply hovered their, staring down at his palms. He hadn't used the move in years, so he was certain that was was the reason it hadn't worked. He began charging up another blast as Goku said, "Okay, try again. In fact, I won't even block this time. Let's see how strong your Kamehameha really is."

Gohan's eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips together, perturbed by the fact that the move hadn't done anything to his father. He had been able to destroy whole landscapes since he was a small child, even without knowing what he had been doing. The humility bit at him as he saw his father just barely containing his laughter as he hovered before him, completely exposed, challenging him to do his worst. He was sure that this next wave would be able to knock his father down, allowing him to regain some of the dignity he had lost in this battle. But he knocked that thought out of his head, knowing that he needed to stay focused. This battle wasn't about him; it was about all of the lives his father had damaged in his absence. So, honing in on his emotions, he cupped his hands together and yelled once more in a cracking voice, "Ka me ha me ha!"

He watched incredulously as this beam proved to be just as ineffective as the last one. And he felt his cheeks redden as his father continued laughing, holding his gut and saying, "That's really funny, son! That's hilarious! Everybody was worried about how high your power level was back at the Kame House, but this... nothing gets funnier than this!"

Gohan clenched his fists, swiftly flying up to his father while unguarded and kicked him right in the stomach, wiping the smirk off of Goku's face. Goku grimaced, but not before advising, "I would definitely stick to physical attacks, son. No offense, but your energy attacks are awful!" And, even after such a hard blow to his stomach, Goku still broke into another round of laughter, his eyes almost watering with how weak his son proved himself to be.

Gohan seethed, unable to believe what he was seeing. He knew that the chances of him winning were low, but he didn't realize that this whole match would prove to be a joke against his invincible father. This was supposed to be his chance to prove what he was made of, his chance for revenge, his chance to shout death threats and curses. But Gohan had only managed to humiliate himself, his father laughing his head off in the background.


	43. On Rocky Ground

**Let's hope that this chapter pleases. Is forty-three chapters too far into a story to introduce a main character?**

**I do have a quick question, though. Do you think this story's rating should be switched from K+ to T? I've been on edge about this, and I would like to know what you think. It won't get any worse off than it already has, and the only thing I'm worried about is the violence.  
**

"I will give you five seconds to hand over the Dragon Balls or your pathetic excuse for a race will be obliterated."

The Saiyan Prince simpered as he saw a hesitant Moori withdraw himself, a few Namekian warriors stepping forth with spears in hand. But he ignored their looming figures and bared teeth, holding his fist out for the whole community to see. He raised it above his spiky-haired head, starting the count by sticking his forefinger straight into the air, yelling with too much enthusiasm, "One!" He displayed his own teeth, stained by the raw meat he had taken to consuming over the past few years, in their own horrific smile. "Two!" He swiveled his head about, looking for anyone to object. "Three!" Moori glanced around, uncertain of what to do. "Four!" The surge of Namekians slowly began to disperse, backing away as they knew what was coming. "Fi-"

He dropped his hand, almost having risen all of his fingers, as he saw one Namekian step out from Moori's side. With his jaws clamped in disgust, he only looked at Vegeta, shaking his head. Then he said, "We will do it. You can have the Dragon Balls."

An uproar started in the community as Moori simply stuttered, "Cargo!" A ring of Namekians rushed up to the elder as he fell to his knees, coughing hoarsely. As two of the green people helped to steady him on his feet, he turned to Vegeta and sharply said, "We will do no such thing! We cannot aid a man such as yourself; you are responsible for destroying a large portion of our population."

"Don't take it as a compliment," Vegeta sneered, waving the accusation off with a flick of his wrist. "I've done so with almost every other planet there is out there. It's really no big deal." The threatening spears tilted further down, aimed directly for his head, but he only shrugged and said, "These pitiful sticks you call weapons - they will be of no use when fighting me. I am a proud Saiyan warrior. Such petty toys won't do anything but succeed to annoy me, and you don't want to annoy me."

The Namekians holding the spears remained their ground, but they didn't move the weapons any closer to the dangerous man. They watched as Cargo got to his knees, kneeling before Moori and saying, "Please, Elder. I do not want our planet to go to ruin again. Allow him to just explain what it is he wants. Please. It's not as if he can make wishes without our aid, anyways."

Moori nodded, realizing that the man was right. Now standing steadily back on his feet, a Namekian holding him by his arm, he said, "Tell us what it is you want to wish for. You need a translator to speak to the dragon, anyways, so your wishes must be run by us.

Vegeta gritted his teeth, having forgotten this small detail. It was a hitch in his plan, as he was fairly certain that the old buffoon would approve of what he wanted to wish for. Now he would be forced to have his wishes approved by the Namekian, hoping that his requests would be taken into consideration. If they weren't, he always could use the planet as bait to get where he wanted...

With his confidence returning in full, he folded his arms and locked eye contact with the old Moori, saying, "For my first wish, I demand that you bring the Earth moon back." The crowd, having regathered with the knowledge that the Saiyan wouldn't blow them to smithereens immediately, began whispering amongst themselves.. "Then, I demand that you recreate Planet Vegeta." The murmur became distinctly louder. "And finally, I wish that you bring back all Saiyans and their allies destroyed at the hand of Frieza's men."

There was silence as the Namekian population waited for the Grand Elder's reply to such requests. He placed his veined, green hand on a Namekian's forearm, helping him to steady himself as he took a step forward. Then Moori, with a glance about the crowd of his people, faced Vegeta and said, "Our counsel will consult over whether or not to grant you such wishes." Vegeta glowered as the old bag then hobbled into one of the domed, white huts, disappearing with several other old Namekians.

Vegeta placed his hands on his hips and sauntered off towards a lake with a greenish hue to await the verdict. It was eerie how similar this planet was to the old Namek, the wretched place he had died at the hands of his race's murderer. He gave an involunary shudder as he stared across the disgusting lake and stood on the soft, blue grass. He gazed up into the sky, lined with pink-tinged clouds, before closing his eyes and breathing in the fresh air. How disgustingly unpleasant it was to be back on this planet, even if it wasn't the same planet...

He slid his hand to his stomach as he felt it growl. The last meal he had eaten had been on this planet's blasted neighbor, one rather barren with little wildlife. The only edible thing he could find in that wasteland had been a large, insect-like creature, and it was foul tasting, at best. It had reminded him of the inhabitants of one of the last planets he ever had the pleasure of blowing up, Arlia, before heading to the wretched rock that was Earth. It had been most enjoyable with a partner to go around with, seeing as these last few years he had been going around, solo. Nappa used to be fair company, but it was only on rare occasion that Vegeta even thought of the brute. He was glad that he killed him; Nappa was too weak to be any fun, especially now that he had new Saiyan competition...

He couldn't wait to see Kakarot's expression when the moon lit up the sky again, if the Namekians would translate such a wish. Vegeta glanced warily back at the village, the common people waiting around for the same decision to be made that he was waiting for. Blasted people and their blasted rules. If he could have had his way, he would have just blasted them all into oblivion.

But the Saiyan Prince exercised his patience, feeling his fingers curl as he continued standing over the mossy lake. He smirked as he spotted a small bug crawling about on the bank and proceeded to step on it. As soon as these Namekians wore out their usefulness, Vegeta knew that they would be the next pests to be stamped out in much the same manner.

* * *

Piccolo jumped back after expressing his fears, surprised by the sudden presence of Mr. Popo. He stood up on his red carpet, appearing in the midst of the three and next to Trunks, and patted his hands together. Then he smiled, showing off his one tooth, as he apologized, "I'm sorry for taking so long. I couldn't find an appropriate spot for Yamcha; there are fewer caverns there than I had remembered." After he jumped off of the carpet, it floated upwards and furled into a tube, disappearing instantly.

Dende was quite relieved by the genie's arrival, the tension in the air dissolving. The amount Piccolo must have been thinking in these past few years amazed him; even Dende, the Guardian of Earth, didn't think into matters quite as deeply as the other Namekian. He supposed, though, that it was why he had friends; he was still young and inexperienced, and he needed all of the help he could get. He just hoped that he never turned out being as suspicious as Piccolo, as jolly as Mr. Popo, or as utterly useless as Kibito Kai; he enjoyed being himself, Dende, knowing there had to be something that he could contribute as an individual. There had to be a reason why he was the one to be Guardian of the Earth, and he had yet to find it.

Pushing aside these thoughts, he turned to Piccolo and asked, "Do you think I should go ahead and heal Trunks now?"

The Namekian pressed his lips together in thought, not willing to give up the momentary peace and quiet of the sanctuary to the brat's fighting. But, seeing as it had to be done anyways, Piccolo sighed, "I guess now's as good a time as ever." He folded his arms as Kibito Kai furrowed his eyebrows, watching Dende from a distance.

With his sleeves rolled up his scrawny arms, Dende knelt down by the unconscious Trunks and pressed his green hand on the man's face, enveloping it as a whole. The group watched for the second time that night as light radiated from Dende's palm, cascading down the unconscious Trunks' broken face. It rolled off of the sides of his face, the sparkles disappearing as they touched the shiny tile floor. The muscles in Piccolo's hand twitched as he saw Dende pull himself aside, everybody watching as Trunks' eyes flickered open. He turned his head from side to side before pushing himself off of the ground, his eyes deadened from his sleep.

"What just happened?" Trunks slurred, regaining the ability to process thoughts. He blinked a few times, looking from Kibito Kai to Mr. Popo to Dende, his eyes finally resting on Piccolo's tall form. He held his hand out for the Namekian to take and, after contemplating for a few seconds of whether to help the man up or not, Piccolo finally reached down and took his glove into his own strong grip. Then he pulled the man to his feet, wobbling about a bit before he repeated, "What happened?" He placed his hand directly to his nose, muttering, "My face feels awful..."

"Just a headache," Mr. Popo said, his large lips spread into a wide smile. "It's just a headache."

And everybody stared at the genie, surprised that he actually lied. He only placed a finger to his mouth and pointed his other hand's forefinger at Trunks. Then, immediately, the demi-Saiyan's limber body came crashing back down on the tiled floor, falling unconscious again. Now everybody was not simply surprised; they were astounded.

The genie walked up to the demi-Saiyan and picked him up in his arms, saying, "He's obviously not right in the head. A good night's sleep should do him well." He glided down the Lookout and into the palace, promptly setting Trunks down on the first bed he'd laid on in years. Everybody else lingered back, wondering what exactly went through that genie's head at times.


	44. A Painful Exchange

**Keep in mind that the proud male Saiyan warriors have three weaknesses: one is their tail, another is their pride, and the final one is... not their metabolism.  
**

With a clap of joy, Buu hovered over the bowl of chocolate gelatin pudding brought out to him. It looked rather hastily made, with chunks of powder in the otherwise consistent concoction, but Buu couldn't care less. Setting his mouth on the rim of the popcorn bowl, he inhaled the whole dessert much like a vacuum cleaner inhales dust. Mr. Satan smiled, holding a nervous thumbs-up to the chef who allowed his tense shoulders to drop in relief. After Buu had his fill, Mr. Satan graciously took the oversized bowl from the pink creature and handed it back to the chef, who hurried back inside.

Hercule rested his hand on the creature's shoulder, glad that even if he couldn't save people a world at a time, he could save them a candy bar at a time. Buu patted his large, pink stomach in satisfaction before announcing, "Buu need milk, now! Buu go make milk!"

To his shock, Mr. Satan ran in front of his friend and waved his hands quickly, saying, "No, no! Let me get you some milk! I have some special milk that I can get just for you!"

Buu simply cocked his head and said, "Okay!" And with that word, Mr. Satan scampered inside, eyeing the first maid he saw and knowing that he had just saved her life. He hurried down the corridor a second time that night, faster than anybody had seen the champion run in years, and quickly placed his next order for the chef.

Outside in the courtyard, Buu continued grinning as he stared up at the sky, recognizing a shadowy figure gliding lowly over the house. With a hand waving in the air, he called, "Ms. Satan! Girl! Buu say 'hi'!" There was no response, but he did see a tiny hand waving hello in return as the two of them landed in on the outer part of the mansion. Buu smiled to himself, hoping that Girl would come and play with him. He remembered her as being nice, or at least much nicer than the bad man.

* * *

Unable to get over his amusement, Goku spun around, clamping his palm over his mouth to prevent any sound to escape. It was just too funny to not laugh about; his son, killer of Cell, defender of the world, couldn't do a thing to harm his father. But it only got better with the expressions of fury his face had contorted into, staring incredulously from hand to hand as if something was wrong. And something was: one of the strongest demi-Saiyans, too confident to spend time training, had lost nearly all of his ability to fight. His power level may have been extremely high, but Goku knew that it didn't make a bit of difference unless he knew how to use his energy. And Gohan had obviously forgotten.

It was finally as he turned back around, eager to give his frustrated son more 'advice', that he felt Gohan's leather shoe slam directly into his nose. He scowled with the pain, acknowledging that his son at least remembered how to fight physically. But at Goku's fighting level, a worthy opponent also had to use his ki for both energy blasts and flight. Goku hadn't even ascended all of the way, and he already knew that he would have to go easy on the man.

Before checking exactly what damage, if any, had been done to his face, he took this opportunity to swing his leg around, hitting Gohan on his hip. Gohan yelped as he spun away, having not expected his father to make such a maneuver. Then he placed his hand to his face, briefly wondering if Gohan had actually succeeded in breaking his nose, but his fears were immediately eased. There was no blood, and the cartilage had retained the same shape as it had always held. He wrinkled his face up and wiggled his nose to be certain before returning to Gohan's body, still flying across the sky.

Gohan's face seized with pain as he felt his father catch him, twisting his arms behind his back. He continued pushing until Gohan believed they would simply snap, but Goku had practiced with such strength before. He held his son's arms at such an angle that the bones and joints groaned with the pressure applied, asking again, "Son, will you please stop? I really don't like doing this to you." It was true; it pained him to see his son putting his dignity on the line.

The man only snarled in reply, twisting and turning until he stopped, only knowing that his struggles were injuring himself in this vulnerable position. So, in one steady motion, he rocked backwards and then forwards again, swinging his legs over his head and kneeing his father directly in the chin. They both leapt away in pain after this, the father holding his chin, the son stretching his back with a moan. Gohan was not a flexible man, making that tactic one of his stupider ones. But it seemed to be fairly effective, distracting Goku for a few seconds and allowing Gohan to break free of his father's strong grip.

Rolling his shoulders and massaging his lower back, Gohan listened as his father praised, "That was actually a pretty good idea. I think you did more damage to yourself than you did to me, but I hadn't been expecting it." They were both at a temporary standstill, Goku allowing his son to regain composure before they began sparring again. Gohan only shook his head, amazed by his father's courtesy in battle. Was he really so strong that he could take the matter of Gohan trying to kill him so lightly? Gohan could only hope that his father was bluffing throughout this battle, taking more damage than he claimed to be.

But, of course, he wasn't.

Goku continued rubbing his chin as he examined his son, shocked that his suspicious boy had dropped all of his defenses so quickly to recover. He must have really thought that Goku wouldn't try doing any damage to him, which he was right about. But Goku also didn't want to destroy his son's pride, so he continued tugging at his chin, pretending to still be in pain from that attack. Truthfully, what Goku had said had been a severe understatement: Gohan had managed to almost destroy all chances in the battle, having damaged himself far more than his father. His chin had stung for a few seconds, but after that, Goku had been prepared to fight. He definitely needed to train Gohan after this, if his son would allow for it after this strike on his ego.

He regretted laughing so much at his son after those failed Kamehameha waves, but he knew that his son was more powerful than that. Along with laughing because he found it humorous, he was hoping that the damage to his pride would make him use more power. Instead, though, he seemed to by shying away from energy blasts now, focusing more on the physical aspects. While Goku thought that his physical attacks were, for the most part, the only good part about this performance, he knew that a strong warrior needed those energy blasts. It was something that distinguished the strong from the weak. Any man could punch another man, but the common man couldn't shoot ki blasts out of the palms of his hand.

Gohan noticed his father's restlessness and, after giving his back another quick crack, assumed a ready position again with his hands up in defense. He then began instinctively blocking each punch his father threw at him after appearing before him using Instant Transmission, startling the man. But he was able to fend off his father's attacks with his forearms acting as a barrier quite successfully. Then, using a speed in battle that he had long forgotten, he grabbed his father's fists in the palms of his hands. The two began pushing at one another, seeing who would break first while in air, allowing a punch to slip by and knock them in the head.

Goku was genuinely impressed by his son's defenses. They were far better than expected of a man whose offensive techniques were so awful, though they, too, were rough and in need of refinement. He pushed with all of his strength in this form, both of their hands quivering with the opposing forces. He knew that one of them would have to slip eventually, and for a brief moment, he thought that he would be the one to lose this temporary standoff.

And, of course, he was.

Unable to maintain this position much longer, Gohan had resorted to a tactic he had never had to use before, taught to never use it. His father had been very strict in training about following set guidelines, but now he was desperate enough to break these rules. In the one second that his father's force had let up a bit, Gohan swung his leg forward and straight up, striking his father between his legs with his shoe. He watched as his father's pressure on his hold vanished completely, his face switching almost comically from one of intense concentration to one of revulsion, his mouth falling open. Gritting his teeth together and holding the area in question, he wiggled through the air and howled at the sky, "GOHAN!"

Gohan couldn't help but chuckle a bit for the first time that night, having never seen his father so distressed. He continued holding the sensitive spot as he buckled over in pain, having never been struck so hard there. Then, with his lip bitten angrily, he looked up and yelled, "That was a cheap trick, son! I thought I'd raised you to be above that!" He was shocked to hear the actual pain and frustration in his father's voice, hearing fury from that man for the first time in a long time...

What Gohan didn't expect was his father's fist to come out of nowhere, striking him with the brute force of a Saiyan straight in the jaw. He felt the impact, pain exploding as he fell back into the water, unable to stop himself. That blow of anger had been enough to shatter Gohan's jaw, and Goku only looked on in horror at what he had just done.


	45. Of Things to Come

**Enjoy!**

Goku was too stunned to catch his son before he broke into the cold waves below, simply staring in disbelief as Gohan disappeared beneath the blue water. He allowed his hands to fall from his weak spot, still throbbing from the impact that Gohan had made with that swift kick. After giving himself a few seconds of recovery time, his mouth still retching with pain, he eyed the ocean of blue below. Keeping his clenched his teeth together, the ache from his sensitive spot still preventing him from thinking clearly, he took a headfirst dive into the sea, his arms extended to break the water.

The plunge chilled his bones, soaking his blue gi through to the skin. He ignored the freezing cold as he sank deeper, looking around desperately for his son's body. He hoped that he wasn't too badly damaged; he had only managed to hear something break before his son fell straight into the sea. Goku snorted a few bubbles out of his system as he shook his head, unable to believe what he had done. But now wasn't the time to think over it. Now was the time to act.

He continued surveying the underwater landscape before remembering to sense his son's ki. He looked up to see Gohan thrashing just above him, his torso wiggling as his head sagged limply with the water's gentle current. As quickly as possible, he projected himself right through the water, his arms extended to receive his son. He fit Gohan comfortably in his arms, his hair floating every which way. Goku didn't take enough time to see exactly what he had done to him, though, knowing that the both of them needed air. So, as quickly as possible, he flew out of the water and into the sky, another round of cold surging through his body as the wind whipped at him. But he ignored both that and the pain still in his private region, cradling his tall son in his arms. One of his legs twisted off to the side, his arm hanging freely in the air, but that wasn't of Goku's concern at the moment.

The moment he pushed the wet hair out of his son's face, Gohan groaned, wincing with pain. Goku noticed that his jaw was swelling incredibly with the impact, off its hinges and twisted slightly to the side. Still hovering there, he muttered to his son, "Don't worry, I'm going to take care of you." Then he darted off in the direction of the Kame House, knowing that if Gohan didn't kill him after this little expedition match, Chi-Chi surely would.

* * *

Inside of the palace, Mr. Popo was glad that he could have distracted the group outside so easily with his unusual behavior. By knocking Trunks out again, he was able to provide the two energy sources in the distance with another distraction, knowing that Piccolo was becoming bored again and would begin his search of Goku again if he hadn't done anything. As desperate times called for desperate measures, Mr. Popo muttered an apology to the unconscious man. He hadn't been given enough time to think of another ploy and felt guilty for using the man as a distraction, but it was necessary.

Mr. Popo had known Goku since he was a child, and he believed that the man did indeed deserve a second chance, just as Piccolo had been given his years ago. As he sensed the energies again, he frowned, feeling both of them drop drastically. That could have been a good sign, however unlikely, that the battle between father and son was over peacefully. Or, as he feared, one of them had become victorious, powering down due to the battle being done with. But he knew that they hadn't killed each other because he could still sense two weak life forces. Goku's was a bit stronger than Gohan's, but it was weak, nevertheless.

He had spent a good deal of time at Yunzabit Heights listening to their battle, considering dropping by to check on the two of them. But he decided that this was strictly father-son business, nothing for a genie to be involved with, and thus he had left them alone. As for Yamcha, he was well-hidden in a cave, one to protect him from the ferocious winds of the highlands. By the time he woke up, which he predicted to be a few days, he hoped that enough of the action would have died back down so he could spend some time with the man, working out a plan of protection for him. Mr. Popo feared that the purple-haired demi-Saiyan in his arms was going to dramatically change the poor man's life. He wished that Yamcha, merely a human, hadn't gotten involved in this whole Saiyan business, leaving Ms. Briefs after her marriage to Vegeta. It was only causing trouble, but it was too late to change the past. The only thing he could do now would be to work on a better future.

He laid the unconscious Trunks on one of the numerous beds, tucking him in under the thin, white sheets. Then, with a sudden idea, Mr. Popo snapped his fingers and allowed his magic carpet to serve as a thicker blanket. As he placed his hand to the demi-Saiyan's forehead, he noted that he was rather warm, feverish almost. He released a puff of air in hope that it was nothing. Then he walked away, going to retrieve a pitcher of water for the man. Trunks would wake up soon, he knew, and hopefully provide his services as a decoy once more.

Outside of the palace, Piccolo had his arms crossed, smirking as Kibito Kai asked, "Is the genie... hrmm... for lack of a better word... mad, by any chance?" Dende laughed a bit at this question and shook his head.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Dende replied honestly, "I don't know what that goes on in his mind, but Mr. Popo must be pretty smart. He's been here since the first Guardian of the Earth, and if he can avoid death for that long, he must know something about keeping people alive." He looked to the lighted palace and sighed, "Sometimes I think he's a little too good at what he does, really."

"He makes blunders," Piccolo grunted as he heaved his weighted shoulder pads off of his shoulders. Then, with a flick of his finger, a new set formed, this one with another cape. Piccolo gave the other one a nudge with his foot before taking his forefinger, the same one used to fix his outfit, and destroying the white cloth with a thin ki beam. He only stared at the ashes on the ground before sitting down, assuming a meditative position. Then Kibito Kai watched, intrigued, as Piccolo levitated just above the tile.

The Kai turned back to Dende and said, "There's a reason why I come to Earth more often than any other planet. Everybody's just so... strange." Dende released a chuckle as Piccolo growled.

"I heard that."

* * *

Vegeta couldn't help but glance backwards every few minutes, wondering when they counsel would final decide on whether his wishes were worthy of being made or not. And each time he glared back, he saw heads turn away, trying to pretend that they hadn't been staring at him this whole time. He had already scared one Namekian kid who had come a bit too close, giving him his ugliest snarl. It had been a while since he'd made a kid cry; lately, he'd been hanging around either space thugs or creatures that made sufficed as meals.

He gritted his teeth, on edge as he considered yet another wish. He could finally pursue immortality, something he had dreamed about for all of his life. But now, with the Dragon Balls so close, he wasn't sure that he could do it. Half of the fun in training was never knowing if it would pay off or not, making him work even harder. It would certainly take the fun out of beating Kakkarot if he decided to make such a wish, making it far too easy. Vegeta liked a good challenge, always looking for ways to improve himself. It especially brought him pleasure to become strong enought to get revenge on somebody who had humiliated him in front of those he cared about...

He bit back these thoughts with a grunt. No. He didn't care about anybody now anymore. He had become the same Vegeta he had been when he had destroyed that blasted planet, Arlia, before softening up. He couldn't believe the stupid decisions he had made on that blasted Earth, actually getting married. Of course, that blasted blue-haired woman had just about tricked him into it finally, sick of simply living together. So he had agreed to it for financial costs, unaware of what exactly he was getting himself into. And before they even had that blasted 'wedding', something Kakarot had believed was food, he had gone ahead and had kids! Kids, of all the blasted things, kids like these blasted green midgets wandering about, afraid of the Saiyan warrior. He snarled and huffed, disgusted by the foolish things he had done on that planet.

But that was in the past. Vegeta looked out for nobody but himself now, and his only goal at the moment was to rebuild his race. He would once again rise to the top, becoming the Prince of Saiyans with no question of his authority. And Kakarot would be nothing but a lowly minion, forced to bow down to his might. He just wished that the blasted Namekians would hurry up and make their decisions. He needed to know if they would simply hand him the crown to his kingdom once more or if he would have to seize it from their grasps.


	46. Ridiculous Positions

**It's kind of a silly chapter, but I hope you like it!**

After sensing both of the energy levels drop significantly, Goten released a worried sigh, exchanging a knowing glance with his mother. Chi-Chi gathered from his look that the fight was over between father and son as he said quietly, "Dad's power is low, but I can still feel his." He left the rest unsaid, not mentioning his inability to sense his older brother's energy at all.

He clenched his teeth together and looked towards Krillin, who was already pulling the ladies hiding behind the couch off of their feet, starting with Valese. He helped to steady her on her heels before releasing her arm and turning to Goten, a smirk hidden underneath the wild moustache. Always the optimist, he said, "Don't worry about it, Goten! I know what you're thinking, but Goku isn't a killer! Sure, sure, he did go on a few killing sprees as a kid, but he didn't even touch a hair on Frieza's head!" Then his shoulders slumped as he pressed his forefinger to his lips in thought, mumbling, "I could have worded all of that a little better, but I think you get my point."

"Krillin!" Chi-Chi snapped, now getting worked up by Krillin's inspirational speech. She leapt to her feet, making Valese rush to Goten's side in fear, and pointed her finger threateningly at the short man. "Now listen here, Krillin. I'm sure that Gohan's fine; he has to be. If he's not, it's your head on the line!" And Krillin gulped as she suddenly switched from anger to sorrow, placing her hand over her heart and looking off into space, saying, "Oh, it's okay, my little Gohan. You're alright. I'm sure of it. Whatever your big, mean father's done to you, I'll be here to help you."

Then she looked wildly towards the door as it slammed open, only displaying Eighteen to her dismay. She crossed her arms and took her seat on the stool again, waiting for her son rather impatiently as the blond-haired android made her entrance. Before Krillin could bend down to scoop Marron off of the floor, he found his loving wife's hand digging into his shoulder blade as she announced, "Their little tiff's over, and Goku's bringing Gohan back here. From what I could hear, Gohan somehow cheated in their game, and then I heard something shatter. Both of their bodies hit the water, I know that much, and then Goku came out with the both of them and said some sentimental junk to Gohan."

Gazing up at his wife in amazement, Krillin asked, "And you could really hear all of that? That's really incredible, Eighteen!"

She smirked a little, never failing to be amused by the small compliments Krillin paid to her, even if they were usually about her functions and not appearances. "Thanks," she said, releasing her hold on the man and retreating to her corner of the room.

But Goten wasn't completely satisfied by the android's explanation. As Krillin lifted his dozing daughter into his arms, the demi-Saiyan placed his arm around his wife's waist, asking, "But what exactly happened? Is Gohan hurt? Is he dead? What did Dad do to lower his energy so much?"

Becoming annoyed very quickly, Eighteen placed her hand to her hip and explained, "I'm not a mind-reader, so I have no idea. Stop asking me these questions. Judging by my ears, I'd say that it will be about two minutes before your father arrives, and then you can ask him anything you'd like. Just because I'm a robot doesn't mean I can spit answers out as quickly as you can think of these ridiculous questions."

Goten glowered at the android, not in the mood for her usual attitude, but refrained from saying anything. This wasn't a time to start arguments that didn't need to be started. All he needed were answers as he shut his eyes, trying to focus on both the weak and obscure energy forces.

* * *

Videl hurried through the foyer while tugging Pan along behind her, sensing her father's extremely weak energy coming from the kitchen. She sped through the house, whipping by maids that were still finishing up their night time duties before heading to bed, and through several corridors. It was at times like these that she wished the mansion wasn't so large, being too much for her to handle.

She quickly located her father who was standing behind the kitchen island and chatting with their chef. Ignoring the man pouring an over-sized glass of milk, she tugged at her father's arm and took him by surprise, saying, "Dad, there's something wrong with Gohan. I don't know what to do."

Hercule looked at his daughter, his face falling as she saw the desperation on her face. Then he turned his eyes on to a rather exhausted pan, clenching on to what appeared to be parts of a suit, a pair of glasses resting neatly on top of the pile in her hands. With one last glance at those curious glasses, he took Videls hands in his own, patting them as he said, "Now, there, there. What's wrong, sweet pea?"

Unable to contain herself, she flung herself into her father's arms and began sobbing, something very unusual coming from his daughter. He almost considered pulling himself away just from the shock of it, but instead, he began patting her back as she explained, her tears instantly beginning to dry up. "Oh, Dad, Gohan's been acting really weird lately, like somebody's out there to get him. His mom called today, and I picked up, and we talked, and she said to come over. So I went upstairs and told Gohan about how his dad had returned-"

"Wait, what?" Hercule asked, making Videl pull head out of her father's arm. If he had just heard correctly, that meant that Goku had returned. That was definitely strange, something he hadn't been expecting. The whole day had been full of surprises, and this was certainly an odd one.

"Mr. Son, Goku, Gohan's dad, he's come back, but Gohan seemed really mad about it. I finally convinced him to come with Pan and me, though, so that we could all see him together, but when we were about half-way there, he told us to turn back. I agreed, and I think he and Goku had a fight out there, but now I can't feel Gohan's ki at all, so I'm afraid-"

The chef coughed impatiently, cutting her off at just the right time, Buu's large glass of milk sitting on the counter. Hercule pulled Videl into a tighter hug and wiped the tears from her cheek, ordering Pan, "Be a doll and take that out to Buu, won't you? Thanks, Pan; your mom and I have got to have a talk."

Pan placed all of the things her father had given her to hold on the kitchen counter. Then, with her small fingers wrapped around the edge of the bucket-sized glass, she proceeded to the courtyard, having seen him out there when they were flying over. He had waved at her and she had waved back, wanting to stop and talk to him, but her mom was really stressed out. She had been talking to herself the whole flight over, worrying Pan. Her mom had said she was afraid of something, which Pan had never heard her mother say once in her life before. Whatever was scaring her mom had to concern her, too, she knew. She had a feeling it had something to do with her father, but she couldn't be certain.

She was tempted to, after giving the glass to Buu, return to the kitchen and listen in on what they were saying. It obviously couldn't be that secret, seeing as they were talking about it right in front of Mr. Chef, but it might have just been one of those grownup things she always heard about. She wanted to be part of grown-up conversations; she was twelve years old and a quarter Saiyan, whatever that really meant. It was just something that her dad had always told her to bring up for if the kids at school ever bullied her. Luckily, with the amazing strength she had, she never had problems with people beating her up.

By the time she reached the courtyard, she had completely forgotten about wanting to listen in on the grownup conversation. She greeted Buu with a smile, saying, "Here you go! Drink up!" And with a word of thanks, Buu lifted the cup from her grip and downed it in one guzzle, leaving a tiny, frothy milk moustache on the top of his lip. He promptly licked it of and handed the cup back to her, considerably lighter now that it was empty. She laughed, poking his pink blubber, "You sure can down this skimmed milk! Me, I hate it, but my mom forces me to drink it. I prefer the whole stuff better."

Buu giggled as he poked her, not comprehending a word of what she just said. Instead of asking her what she meant, he asked, "Girl want to play game with Buu?"

Pan placed a hand to her hip with the glass in the crook of her elbow, explaining, "It's 'Pan', not 'Girl'. Don't you remember? P-A-N. Pan."

"Pan," Buu automatically corrected himself, letting out another round of laughter. "Pan want to play game with Buu?"

She smirked and, pretending to have to think about whether or not she really wanted to play around with the creature, she finally replied, "Sure, I'll play a game with you. What kind of game do you want to play?" She set the glass down on the stone pathway, deciding that somebody would come and find it in the morning.

Buu ran out into the grass, his cape billowing behind him as he yelled, "Buu want to play Moon Game!"

Her smile automatically faded as she asked, "Moon Game? What's that?" She hadn't known Buu to be very creative with his games, so this was intriguing. She crossed her arms and watched as Buu ran right up to her, his expression falling.

"Pan no know about Moon Game?" he asked, astonished. She laughed as he leapt back, pointing to himself and stating, "Buu be moon. Pan be bad man. When moon come out, bad man be monkey. When moon go away, bad man be normal."

"A monkey?" she asked, feeling her inner child come out again as she got down on all fours, her hands curled into fists with her feet flat on the ground, her rear end pointing to the sky. She felt like a fool, but she asked, "Like this?"

"No! Monkey on two feet! Monkey destroy city!"

Pan was relieved to know that she didn't have to be in such a ridiculous position during the duration of the whole game. She stood straight back up, walking around with her hands baring her fingers, waddling around with her shoulders swaying from side to side. "So I'm kind of like one of those giant monsters you always see on those corny TV shows?" she asked as she stopped to look at the pink creature, but Buu only uttered a noise of confusion as a reply. "Never mind," she said, resuming her walk of terror across the courtyard.

As much as she disliked most of the baby games Buu had her play, this one actually turned out to be pretty fun. Whenever Buu was hiding in the bushes or hiding on the roof, Pan would become a proper civilian, sitting at the fountain and pretending to drink cups of tea. But then, as Buu showed himself, she would resume her monstrous trek across the courtyard, bobbing her head as she jumped on the fountain, pretending it to be a skyscraper in a large city. Buu, after watching Pan climb over the fountain for long enough, would go back into hiding, and she would return to her proper duties as a human.

Pan found it amazing how creative Buu had become in those six months gone.


	47. When Panic Boils Over

**I had a lot of problems writing the first part of this chapter, but thanks to some reviewer advice, I decided to use Valese as a starting point. I hope that it worked out well!**

Valese clenched onto Goten's side, watching as the Kame House buzzed with speculation. Her eyes darted between Chi-Chi and Krillin, the two of them having engaged in a full-blown argument over whether Gohan would arrive fine or not. Krillin was set on Goku having done something to his son, but Chi-Chi was more confident in her own son's ability to fend for himself. Valese pulled herself further into her husband's arms, watching as the older woman stood up threateningly, waving her fist at Krillin and yelling, "If Gohan gets hurt, it'll be all your fault!"

Krillin's jaw dropped as he kept his balance by holding on to the edge of the sofa, exclaiming incredulously, "All my fault? What did I do?" He pointed to himself innocently, looking around the room for somebody to bail him out. But nobody came to his aid.

"You hung around that delinquent and fought with him when he should have been working, not training! It's because of you that he didn't settle down and get a job, letting his strength spiral out of control! You're the cause of this mess, and if Gohan does get hurt, you'll be the second one to have to answer to me." She gritted her teeth, hovering over the short man viciously.

"This is absurd!" Krillin cried, backing away from the approaching woman. "Next you're going to blame me for you deciding to remarry!" But after he uttered these words, he immediately wished that he could have choked them back, seeing Chi-Chi's gaze go from anger to fury. He could see the protective mother seething, almost foaming at her mouth with unsuppressed rage. The next thing he knew, Chi-Chi was standing over him with one of the bar stools in her arms, about to bring it down over his head. That was when Valese felt Goten's body vanish from her side immediately, leaving her to stumble for a brief moment as she regained her balance.

Valese placed her hand to her belly and turned around, seeing that Goten was now behind his mother, having grabbed the stool's legs just as she was about to send it crashing down on Krillin. "Mom," he said gently, prying the dangerous weapon from his mothers grasp and setting it back down in its place, "I think Krillin's right; this is getting out of hand. Just sit and relax. Hitting Krillin over the head won't change a thing." Chi-Chi only huffed, crossing her arms and sitting back down on the stool Goten had just set back down. She turned her nose in the air away from the group, her pride being damaged as she realized that nobody was on her side.

Then Valese felt Goten by her again, casting his gaze down to give her a sly smirk. The brown-haired woman could only shake her head, feeling disoriented already by what had happened. Goten's family was so peculiar, and this visit had been strange in itself. There had been too much yelling for her comfort, and being forced to sit on the wooden floors hadn't been particularly enjoyable. But as she locked gaze with Goten, she bit her bottom lip and took a deep sigh. He ran her fingers through her hair, making her smile a bit as she thought over the strange day.

When they had reached the odd house sitting out at sea, one that she had only been to on rare occasion, her mother-in-law had seemed happy to see them. But her mood had been swinging the whole night from happy to sad to frustrated and back, all being too much for the shy Valese to handle. And then she had gotten to finally meet her father-in-law, shocked by how youthful and full of energy he had seemed to be. After meeting Goten's step-father for the first time, she had been expecting Goten's father to be even older and even more wrinkly. What a surprise she had been in for. And as for the short fellow, Krillin, she still had no idea of where he fit into on the family tree. He was himself, though, as he managed to make her laugh a few times in this rather nervous situation. As for his wife - had she really just referred to herself as a robot? She had never heard the woman talk enough to find out anything about her, but the idea seemed out of this world. And they had a daughter, too, who seemed to have a rather early bedtime. Of course, it was already ten-thirty; even Valese could feel a yawn coming on.

There was the stranger matter of everybody being afraid with Gohan's coming energy. On the ride to the house, Goten had seemed enthusiastic to see his brother again, but now he seemed scared. The smile he was giving her, she knew, had something underneath it. She couldn't tell what it was exactly, but she could only wonder if it was fear. And this hidden emotion, this fear, only became more pronounced as the Eighteen woman stated, "They're here."

Everybody turned anxiously towards the door, waiting, whatever that really meant. Valese clamped even closer to Goten, feeling this fear radiating through the room, even leaving her on edge. She wasn't sure of what they were afraid of; all that she saw was Goten's father appearing in the doorway, his hair a lighter color than she remembered it being. It wasn't until she saw what was in his arms that she learned the true definition of fear, emitting a squeaky scream before passing out, her husband catching her before she hit the floor.

* * *

Bulla hadn't fallen asleep after Yamcha had left her room. She had been perturbed by the worry on his face, pondering over what he meant when he said that this legendary Goku figure wasn't 'usually' dangerous. The ominous words had left her mind unable to rest, leaving her to wonder if this would finally be her chance to learn of her Saiyan heritage. She had never been given the chance to fully explore her powers, knowing that Bulma didn't have a clue about fighting and Yamcha wasn't a large fan of Saiyans himself. Goten and Gohan had been too busy to be able to fill her in on the details, and Pan knew about as much about Saiyans as she did. All she knew was that they were basically humans with tails, and as Yamcha had described them, they were too proud for their own good. She knew that Yamcha was just jealous, having nothing to be proud of.

She laughed a little guiltily at the thought, actually having a lot of respect for the man. It was just something that Krillin had told her before, and she had always stored it in her memory bank. She had often used this lack of pride as an insult to Yamcha when she was younger, but now she knew that he only found it to be funny. There had to be some truth to the fact that Saiyans were extremely proud and had reason to be proud, though. She couldn't understand what really set them apart from humans.

She turned a page in the latest manual her mother had given her, the newest installment to a series of new house robots being engineered. But she couldn't focus on the components behind the 'Vacuumbug' or 'Window Cleaner XVI", leading her to slam the heavy book shut. She set it aside on her bed, brushing her blue bangs out of her eyes as she sat upright, her eyes closed.

Lately, Yamcha had been teaching her the art of learning to read energies, one of the few things the man had decided would be best to learn for her own defense. So she started her practice that night by honing in on the power levels most familiar to her. She began with Pan's power level; though she believed the younger girl to be a little immature at times, she was one of the only kids her age that she found herself compatible with. She was surprised to feel Pan's power level fluctuate so much, feeling her friend release large amounts of ki as she took short flights, landing within a few seconds as if only for extended leaps. She could only wonder what her friend was doing so late at night, but she quickly sensed another ki much more powerful than that of the quarter-Saiyan's. It was Buu's energy, which explained a lot. It was curious, though, as she knew that Buu hadn't been around in months. They were probably playing a game, something that Pan occasionally complained about, but Bulla knew that the girl liked these game more than she let on.

Then she decided that she would feel her mother's energy, sensing her sleep as her power level was extremely low. She smirked, knowing that her mother had endured a tough day after thinking of her father for the first time in years. Bulla wished that she could remember the feel of her father's ki and be able to sense him, but she couldn't. She had been too young to really appreciate him, and her father had rarely spent time with her. She settled for the next-best power level, and that was Yamcha's. But, oddly enough, she couldn't feel her step-father's power.

She tried again, her forehead furrowing in frustration, only to fail again. That was definitely odd; she had never had trouble sensing his power before. Bulla let her mouth hang slightly open as she slipped out of her bed and into some day clothes, wondering if Yamcha was in danger. He had warned her that if a power level couldn't be felt, it either meant unconsciousness or death. Of course, she hoped that it was neither of these and simply her own faulty energy reading. But she had to be certain.

With her hand slamming on the door button the man in question had annoyed her to death with earlier that night, she ran down the hallway, jumping as she tried slipping her socks on her feet. She hopped along and, after succeeding, she sprinted down to her mother's bedroom. She knocked on the iron door, having been told that this one was made of more durable material than the rest due to her father's old tendency of breaking down this one in particular. Whether it was true or not didn't matter. She only continued banging on the door until she heard a woman moan, "Come in!"

She ran into the bedroom, disturbed by the fact that her mother was sitting up in the bed alone. She rubbed her eyes and turned on the lamplight, unable to get another word in before Bulla asked, "Where's Yamcha?"

"Yamcha?" Bulma asked wearily, her eyes unfocused as she looked to her side, seeing it empty. "I think he went for a walk or something like that..." Then, with a yawn, "Is something wrong?" But Bulla was already out of the door, leaving Bulma to turn to her side and fall back asleep, completely forgetting to extinguish the lights in her room before passing out.

Bulla skidded down the hallway and to the front door, slipping her rubber rainboots on, knowing that the forecast for that next morning was rain. And with this uncertainty in what was happening, she couldn't be sure of whether she would return home by the next morning. She just needed to find Yamcha and be reassured that nothing had happened to him.


	48. The Welcoming Committee

**I hope everybody's having a happy new year!**

After Eighteen had informed everybody that the two expected men had arrived, they swung their heads to the door, waiting only for a brief moment before the door slammed open, the doorknob drilling a hole into the plaster wall. But nobody noticed the house damage as they observed the large figure standing in the doorway. It was a silhouette in the dark of night, but as it stepped in, trailing water on the wooden floors, both of the men's features could be more carefully noted in the light of the Kame House. The house was silent, everybody staring at the father carrying his son.

Goten felt immediately relieved, now able to sense his brother's faint ki. But his eyes automatically went to his father's bright head of hair, having powered up to a Super Saiyan for one reason or another. The demi-Saiyan then jumped back, though, as he felt Valese unclench from his side, releasing a bloodcurdling scream before swaying in one spot. Goten came to his senses quickly and caught his wife, merely holding her in such a position as he looked his father's figure over once more, trying to figure out what exactly had scared her so badly. He started with the top, seeing his father's weak expression, wincing as if in pain as he blinked his blue eyes.

His eyes drifted down, catching sight of the blood on his father's blue gi. Beginning to panic, he finally saw his brother's face, turned away from him. It wasn't until another shriek of horror filled the house and Chi-Chi ran up to Goku, taking her oldest son from his arms, that Goten got a good look at his face. And what he saw scared him.

Gohan's face was marred with thick, red blood being coughed up from the back of the man's throat. His jaw was unhinged, off to the side a bit, but Goten couldn't even notice this, his brother's face being so swollen. A few of the teeth on one side of his mouth had been shoved in, his puffy tongue dangling over a bruised lip. And his nose, to top it off, seemed to have taken some damage from the impact on his shattered jaw, being squished against his face in a rather unseemly manner. Goten shook his head as he saw this, astounded first by the damage, and second by who had done it. Chi-Chi ran to the sofa and knocked Marron off the edge of it as Krillin yelped in dismay. The blond-haired woman stumbled to her feet, disoriented by the sudden action, but she managed to steady herself to a standstill.

Running her hand over her son's forehead and down the side of his butchered face, Chi-Chi knelt down by his side. She murmured loving words to him, kissing his tender forehead as she did so. For now, she would treat her little man as he deserved to be treated, but after this mess was dealt with, she would give Goku the flogging of his life. She fought to keep her anger down, especially as she noticed Gohan stir a little, his eyes twitching to meet hers. Feeling her heart lunge for the boy, she bent down, embracing him fully with Goten watching, his own arms hoisting Valese's unconscious body into an upright position.

Eighteen was still standing in her corner, observing the Saiyan curiously as Krillin ran around and grabbed his daughter's arm. Gently, he guided the dizzy woman up the stairs, disappearing for a brief moment to get her out of harm's way because he could feel a fight brewing. The tension in the air was the first sign, and the way that Chi-Chi was consoling her son so delicately was the second. It would only be a matter of seconds before she snapped and began yelling at Goku, something Krillin didn't want his daughter to witness.

Goku stood off to the side and powered down, his hair reverting back to black and hanging limply, wet from his plunge into the sea. His own pain had died off a little, making him feel far guiltier for what he had done to his son. He pulled at the front of his gi, rubbing the bloodstained fabric between his fingers in disgust. On that quick flight home, he had felt his son's body convulse in his own arms, shaming him. Even as his son spit up all over him, dying the blue of his fabric a hideous red, he couldn't help but feel the same pain his son had. He had felt such pain before, years ago, in many fights. In many ways, those fights had been worse, having his legs stepped on or body crushed, suffering from numerous gashes and scrapes. But in many ways, this fight was worse. He had inflicted pain upon his own son, having drawn no boundaries in that last portion of the fight.

Goku felt the blond-haired android's eyes on him, so he turned around and tried comforting the room, "It's fine, everybody. It's fine. I'll just take him to Korin Tower and feed him a Senzu Bean." He held his hands out defensively, though, as he saw Chi-Chi lift her head, giving him daggers for eyes.

"I will not let you touch my son," Chi-Chi hissed, her arms still protectively around Gohan's body. She kept her voice down to prevent scaring him in this dire situation, but she wanted to scream with rage, to get that man out of that house. After assaulting her precious boy, he didn't deserve to even be in his presence, the low-life delinquent.

"Chi-Chi, you're being unreasonable," Goku said to her protests, inching closer, but that was the wrong thing to do. Chi-Chi stood right up, her fists curled by her sides as she glowered at him, her mouth open as she couldn't suppress her rage any longer. Goku noticed this and, quite hesitantly, said, "Okay, okay, I'll go get a Senzu Bean and bring it back here." He saw her bite her lower lip, tugging at it with her teeth in a way that suggested she wanted to tear Goku apart, limb from limb. So, as quickly as he had seemed to arrive, he placed two fingers to his forehead and disappeared.

The angry mother was left standing there, refilling her lungs with air. She exhaled deeply, as if to release her fury, before kneeling back down by her oldest son's side, sighing wistfully, "I just don't know what I'm going to do about that man. He can't be taught, I'm afraid..."

"Mom," Goten said, defending his father, "Dad's just trying to help." He now had Valese under one arm, holding her upright as he placed his opposite hand on his hip.

With an exasperated look, Chi-Chi looked up at her younger son with a dead look in her eyes. No screaming, no yelling, and that was what scared Goten. She simply said, "I don't understand why your father's trying to help now. He's certainly never helped me out before." And then, silence.

"He did help you out," Goten finally told her, determined that his father's name not be ruined. "He may not have been around all the time, but he always did what he thought was right. He thought that he could keep all of us safe during those seven years dead, and he-"

"He didn't even know you were alive, son," she put plainly, her attention temporarily diverted from Gohan.

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he said, "It's not his fault that he didn't know I was alive. You're the one who didn't bother to tell him; nobody did, for some reason."

She shook her head as she looked up into that face, so familiar to Goku's, and felt her temper rise again. Before she knew it, she exploded, "I shouldn't have to communicate with all of these extraterrestrial beings that he likes to hang out with! I don't know them! I was a single mother - do you think I really had time to go around, trying to find some way to get in contact with him? No! I had two sons to tend to, two sons that I couldn't abandon just for him. He should have checked up on me, if anything! He should have checked up on me and seen that I was in need of his help! But even after I told him how much I had missed him and needed him during those seven years, after I had brought myself to forgive him, he disappeared again, this time for eight! How do you think I feel, son? How do you think I feel?"

By the end of this short tirade, she was sitting straight up on her knees, lashing her anger out at her son. She couldn't help it; he looked so like that man, his despicable father, that she couldn't help but believe for a brief second, she was telling him how she felt, letting him know how much he had hurt her. But she then realized that this wasn't Goku; this was her innocent son, the one who had been abandoned for half of his life by his father, bringing himself to say, "I'm sorry, Mom."

"It's fine," she murmured, turning her attention back to Gohan, who had spit up a bit more blood during that time she had been ranting. She sighed, fed up with this family conference already, and headed into the kitchen to get a towel to wipe his face off with. She was too exhausted to continue with this all night. Now she just wanted to return back home, back to her bed with Samuel. Anything was better than facing off with that man. Anything.


	49. Dropping Point

**Hope you enjoy this one!**

After ten minutes of waiting impatiently, staring at the nasty lake before him, Vegeta finally sat down. He pulled a handful of the blue grass by its roots, crushing it in his grip. Then he held the grass bits in his open palm before him, sitting so peacefully on the thin white lining of his glove. All at once, however, the grass disintegrated as the Saiyan formed a ball of energy in his hand. He stared at the blue sphere hovering just above his hand for a moment, enjoying its power momentarily. But this amusement didn't last long as he glanced back angrily, extinguishing the ball of light. There was no excuse for the Namekian elders to be taking this long to decide whether or not his wishes were worth or not. They were too slow.

He had tried listening in on their conversation at one point, only to find that they were speaking their blasted language. And then there were these blasted Namekian kids, running around and not realizing that the biggest threat in the universe was sitting before them. The parents to these brats simply watched him when they thought he didn't notice, hiding in their blasted houses as they saw him swerve his head back around anxiously. This blasted planet and its blasted people needed some change, being too peaceful for their own good.

Blast them all... He smirked at the thought, realizing it was a fairly good idea. He could blast them all. He could easily destroy the whole race, save for the Grand Elder, and force him to fulfill his wishes. But, then again, at that point he might just wish for the whole race to come back. He felt a breath of disappointment from his mouth, knowing that these blasted Dragon Balls were too powerful for their own good. They could bring back the dead more quickly than he could destroy them, though there was always the time restriction on when Dragon Balls could be used again, usually related to the planet's revolution around its sun. That might prove useful in some way.

He looked into the sky, astonished for a moment. The sky was darkening, something he remembered never happening on the planet Namek, always having been a misfortune when sleeping. It made his heart leap, remembering that when the sky did get dark on this planet, it was because the Dragon Balls were in use. He scowled, almost ready to jump to his feet and obliterate whoever was using those blasted balls, but then he remembered. This wasn't Namek. This was new Namek. It was dubious that this planet also had three suns, as he had never seen another planet that did.

Of course, that also meant something that could turn out rather well for the Saiyan. If this planet didn't necessarily have three suns, it could have a moon. Or even a few. He laughed, a horrid idea forming in his mind as he grabbed his squirming tail in his white glove. The devious smirk on his face as he looked to the sky, studying it for a brief second, could have told anybody that whatever the Saiyan Prince was planning was evil. It was a delightful evil, one in which the squeamish desires within the prince's heart seemed to finally be within his grasp.

If there was a moon on this blasted planet, persuading these blasted people to do his bidding might be that much easier.

* * *

Yajirobe leaned on the rail, his chubby elbows resting on the thin, iron surface. He held a bag of Senzu Beans in his hand and was just popping them in, one at a time every few minutes, staring out into space. Those beans were his comfort food, something he was desperately in need of after being dangled over the edge of this very tower just earlier that day. He grimaced and held one of the beans up in the night, looking at it. It looked absolutely ordinary in every way, seeing as it was simply a bean, but there was something rather magical about it. It was the one food that could fill the man up.

He popped another bean into his mouth, scratching at his moustache with his grubby fingers afterward. He stared out into the black of the sky, looking down to see a few thin, dark clouds lying in a low layer. He stuck his head further over the railing and looked up, seeing no clouds near the Lookout. Peculiar weather. The winds were a bit too strong for his taste, so, after eating another one of those Senzu Beans, he turned around to go back down the stairs on the opposite side of the Lookout. And he received a rather unpleasant surprise.

He nearly fell off the tower as he jumped back, seeing Goku appear just a few feet in front of him. He waved his arms, trying to regain balance, but the man grabbed his hand and helped to steady him. With a sigh of relief, Yajirobe looked the Saiyan over, about to ask why he had returned. But all he could utter in disgust was, "What happened to you?"

Goku clenched his teeth, looking down at himself. He was still wet, having not dried out during that flight back to the Kame House, and his shirt was stained with blood. But he ignored the fat man's question and said, "Give me a Senzu Bean, Yajirobe. I need one right now."

Yajirobe held the bag of Senzu Beans closer to his side, saying, "Sorry, Goku, but no can do. This is my last bag, and it's going to take a while before some more grow. These are the only things that fill me up." He patted his rotund stomach and belched, satisfied by his meal. "Plus, you already got a Senzu Bean today. Don't you know how rare these things are?"

The man stepped back in fear as Goku put a foot forward, a look of desperation and anger on his face. Yajirobe gulped, having not seen this type of determination on the man's face since he was just a short kid. "Give me a Senzu Bean," Goku demanded, his patience tested as he approached the chubby man. Knowing the kind of talk Chi-Chi would be giving when he returned to the Kame House, he just wanted to return and get this over with. He didn't have time to mess with Yajirobe's antics.

The fat fighter was now pressed against the rail, unwilling to hand his bag over to this man. He was still upset about his jelly doughnuts being eaten earlier that day, and he frankly didn't care about why Goku needed the beans at the moment. Nobody stole Yajirobe's meal without regretting it, and seeing how physically inept he would be pitted against Goku in a battle of fists, they would have to engage in a battle of food. Nobody could beat Yajirobe when it came to food. It was his specialty.

He continued hugging the bag of Senzu Beans to his side, feeling his torso bend further over the rail, his fat folds pressed against the cold metal. But he refused to give in to the larger, more threatening man, even as Goku yelled, "Give it to me, Yajirobe! I'm not kidding around!" Now this was new. Never, except for on that hunt for one of King Piccolo's delicious minions, had Yajirobe seen his fierce persistence in the man's face, the ferocity in his actions. He took another step closer to the fat man, his teeth bared as he growled, "Give it to me!"

Yajirobe continued pressing himself further into the railing until he took one step too far. He toppled over the edge, his red undergarment displayed to the world as he kicked his chubby legs, trying to gain traction in the air. He let out a wail, feeling himself fall back off the edge of Korin Tower, off into the dark of the night. And he would have if Goku hadn't lunged forward, grabbing the man by his blubbery ankle. Instead of hanging him over the side cruelly and forcing the Senzu Bean out of him, he swung the poor man back over the landing, setting him down as gently as he could with this foreign, trembling rage.

Extending the bag of Senzu beans with a shaking arm, Yajirobe yelped, "Take it! I don't care anymore, just don't hurt me!" And he used his other arm to block his face, shielding himself from any blow Goku might make. But Goku simply snatched the bag triumphantly from the man's hand, digging two Senzu Beans out of it. Then he placed the bag back into the man's hand, still shaking, and tossed one of the beans into his mouth, quickly getting over his anger towards the stubborn man.

Goku automatically felt better, rubbing his stomach as it filled up. Though his clothes were still wet, he didn't feel cold anymore, warmed up by whatever contents those mystical beans contained. And the slight throbbing below his abdomen stopped, making him feel like more of a man than he had ten minutes ago. He smirked slightly, looking down at the cowering Yajirobe, and said, "Thanks!"

And with that, Yajirobe watched as Goku placed two fingers to his head, the other hand clenching on tightly to the remaining Senzu Bean. He vanished, leaving the frightened Yajirobe to his own devices. But Yajirobe simply lay there for a minute, making sure that the man wasn't coming back, before he stood back up to his feet. That was when he noticed Korin on the opposite edge, having just climbed up the stairs to see Yajirobe a mess. "Was that Goku?" the white cat asked curiously, staff in hand.

Yajirobe grunted, "Yep." Then, with his confidence rushing back, he crossed his arms and said, "And I was about to take him on, too, but then the sissy disappeared." He reopened the sack of beans, shaking his head and noting that he did need to get back at Goku for two things. First he stole his jelly doughnuts. Then he stole his Senzu Beans. This was war.


	50. Bring Him Down

**I'll admit, it's not the action-packed fiftieth chapter that even I had been expecting, but I hope you still like it. I want to thank all of you reviewers once more! You all do inspire me!**

Piccolo's eyes snapped open as he fell from his meditative state, landing gracefully on his two shoes. Kibito Kai cocked his head at him, left alone after Dende had gone to check on Mr. Popo. He noticed the disturbed expression on the Namekian's face and asked, "Is something wrong, Piccolo?" The Namekian was glowering and moving swiftly towards the edge of the Lookout with purpose.

"I think... I think I felt Goku's ki," Piccolo muttered, pacing briskly away. Kibito Kai clenched his teeth, remembering the whole reason he had been sent to Earth now. Elder Kai, after that obnoxious North Kai had begged, had sent him to Earth with a mission, something he was obviously failing at: he was to distract Piccolo, to keep him from finding Goku. He gulped as he heard Piccolo continue, "I think it's coming from Korin Tower." Then, under his breath, he said to himself, "I knew that cat was up to something. I shouldn't have trusted him or Yajirobe."

Trying to think of something quickly, Kibito Kai ran forward and called, "Wait!" Piccolo spun around, his cape whipping at his feet. After biting his lip in thought for a second, he said, "It... it's pretty dark. Don't you need a lantern or..."

His voice died away as he saw Piccolo's death glare, clearly telling him to stop talking. "I'm fine," he said, showing all of the respect he still felt for the Kai. "After hundreds of years on this planet as two beings, I think I've learned how to adapt."

"Aren't you... aren't you cold, though?" the purple Kai tried as Piccolo had begun spinning around again, making the Namekian stop in his place to deliver the nastiest snarl he could muster.

"Does my skin really look that sensitive?" he asked, holding his calloused forearm up to the Kai, the veins in it almost breaking as he said these. "Does it look as if I'm going to drop dead from a slight breeze or chill?"

Kibito Kai shrunk back into his clothes with the scowl the Namekian gave him before turning back around. Feebly, he suggested, "Shouldn't you get something to eat before you go? You haven't eaten all day - you're not hungry, are you?" His voice had almost faded away completely by the time he reached these last few words, seeing Piccolo's anger rising. He had seen what a Namekian with a temper did earlier that night, and he did not want the same to happen to him. With a chagrined grin and a tiny voice, he asked, "Piccolo?"

"First of all," Piccolo roared, advancing towards the Kai too quickly for his tastes, "Namekians do not eat. We only require water to live on." Kibito Kai backed away, knowing that Goku owed him his life after this risky endeavour. "We don't need blankets or whatever you pathetic excuses for races use to keep warm, and our vision in dark areas is excellent, thanks to the vast number of caves on Namek! If you did your job properly, I think that you might know a thing or two about who it is that you're dealing with! But, no - you're just a Supreme Kai! No power at all in the order of the Universe, the lowest status of Kai there is! Even King Kai, that incompetent fool, does a better job at what he does than you do!"

The purple Kai flushed, having not realized that Piccolo felt so strongly. It seemed as if his fan club had just dropped back down to an occupation of zero, his ancestor even taking sides with that good-for-nothing North Kai. Genuinely hurt, he turned away and said, "I... I didn't realize that was how you felt."

Piccolo bit his lip in shame, embarrassed that he had lashed out to the Supreme Kai in such a foul manner. He turned his green head away as he said, his voice low, "I'm sorry, Supreme Kai. It's not a good night for me." He sighed in both disgust and pity for the poor excuse of the Kai, but he knew that it wasn't his place to tell him that he was unfit for the tasks a Supreme Kai are set to do. At first, he had given his utmost respect for the man, but the more he was around him, the more he realized that nothing intelligent came out of his mouth.

To the Namekian's surprise, Kibito Kai merely shrugged and changed the topic completely, saying, "I think Goku's energy's gone now." His tone didn't hold the same weariness it had just a moment before, being rather matter-of-fact.

Piccolo glowered, stepping forth as he looked at the tiled floor, realizing that the Kai was right. He held his fist threateningly in the air, feeling his fury surge as he yelled, "You sneak! You're just distracting me from getting to Goku! You're in line with all of those other Kais, trying to let Chi-Chi and Goku meet for one reason or another! I can't believe somebody of your power would abuse your position in such a way!" He spat at the ground and bared his teeth menacingly, adding, "I knew I was right to regard you so lowly. I... I'll deal with you later."

And with a flutter of his cape, he ran off the edge of the Lookout, diving down in the night's darkness. Kibito Kai, shocked by this threat, didn't hesitate to run to the palace in search of Dende and Mr. Popo's protection. This was getting too dangerous and exciting, but for some reason, the Kai kind of enjoyed it.

* * *

With a dishrag in hand, Chi-Chi began dabbing at her son's face, trying to take some of the excess blood up before having to force a Senzu Bean down his throat. It would be difficult, seeing as there was no clear line of sight, his whole face too swollen for a direct path. She shook her head, taking the other end of the reddening towel to wipe some of the crusted blood out of Gohan's nose. His eyes were closed, but just to make sure that he wasn't awake, Chi-Chi lifted one of his eyelids slowly and carefully. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, making her glad that she wasn't suffering silently at this moment, unable to speak up and tell her that he really wanted to leave her alone.

Her tongue stuck out a bit as she placed the side of her head to his chest, relieved by the steady heartbeat. It was weak, but it seemed as if her son had already passed through the worst part of it. She released a sigh, one of anxiety, as she looked up to her other son. She managed to grin a bit as she saw that Goten had Valese under one arm, trying to keep her standing upright but also trying not to disturb the baby. They exchanged knowing looks, from mother to son and vice-versa, trying to console one another. Even knowing that Gohan would be healed so quickly couldn't console them, having to see his face in such disarray. Goten could only wonder what had gone on out there; he wanted an explanation from his father, and it had to be a good one. Never before had he seen his father take such a brutal swing at his family or friends, much less his son. His mom was right in that this had gone too far.

Chi-Chi saw the apprehension contorting his son's facial features, but before she could comment, they heard a door close upstairs. With slow steps, Krillin paraded his way down the steps, smirking as he asked, "No arguing?" As he reached the bottom, he closed the front door slowly, everybody forgetting that it had been left wide open. But as he turned to face them all, he noticed the tension in the air, making him press his lips together. This was... odd.

It was finally Eighteen that said, "Shut up, Krillin." Her arms were folded as even she looked slightly concerned, looking down at the floor. This wasn't something that Goku would do. There was something rather strange about the whole situation. She had never seen Goku hit one of his children so forcefully, holding back even in spars or when reprimanding them. There was some force hidden deep within that man, making her wonder how deep they had to dig to bring it out. This was only a hint of his power, though. If something happened... she didn't even want to think about it. There was no telling of just how strong Goku had become in the passing years, his power always seeming limitless. They needed somebody to save them, some hero who could put the Saiyan back in his place.

* * *

Vegeta grinned as he saw hints of a moon appear over the horizon. Then he gripped his tail even more tightly, standing up as the end of the furry appendage tried wriggling free of his grasp. The satisfied smirk on his face was nothing as he stood on that planet, thoroughly enjoyed the transition of day to night. He released his tail, allowing it to curl around his waist in the belt-like fashion. He patted it once before beginning to approach the domed, white hut containing the elders. He was tired of their waiting. They weren't the ones to make the rules; he was the boss of them. They would listen to his commands after a few shows of fear, the same ones he had used in the old days, wiping planets single-handedly.

He would become the sovereign lord of all conquered planets, all enslaved peoples, and most importantly, Kakarot. He would finally gain the upper edge on that Saiyan once and for all.


	51. The Little Things

**I'm sorry, readers, but school has officially begun! I was on quite a writing spree over this winter break, but now I don't have the free time I used to. I think I'll be able to update at least one thing a day, though I may favor a short story over this.  
**

**I must say, I had never realized how slow this story moves. Unfortunately, I can't make any promises about moving the speed up at all, seeing as this is just how I write naturally. I hope it isn't too bothersome; if it is, just tell me. I can try speeding up some of my chapters a bit, if only that much.  
**

Krillin had simply been standing to the side of the room, leaning against the stair's railing. He had a forearm resting on top of it as he watched the rest of the room cautiously. He didn't see why everybody else was so upset. He had been hit by Goku too harshly before, and he was sure that this was all just a misunderstanding. He was certain that Goku hadn't meant to hurt Gohan like he did. That just wasn't who Goku was. He knew that the man wasn't ruthless enough to take that much blood out of his own son. Now, if it had been Vegeta, maybe... That man was evil. He didn't care how much Bulma had always insisted how sweet he had been. With as much experience as Krillin had with villains, he knew that a cold killer couldn't just turn around in a few years and become 'good'.

That was when Krillin noticed Goku had left. He swerved his head around, his arm sliding from the railing and back to his side. Finally, after searching very briefly, just standing in one place, Krillin asked, "Hey, where did-"

But before he could finish he question, he jumped back, the very man having appeared right by his side. With a grin on his face, feeling better after eating that one Senzu Bean, Goku announced quite obviously, "I'm back!" Everybody's eyes had turned to the tall man who was now walking to the sofa, displaying the bean between his fingers for the world to see. As he came closer, however, he found that his path to his son was blocked by a rather furious woman, her arms crossed and black hair frizzing.

"Don't come any closer!" she demanded, attempting to keep the man away from his injured son. "If you know what's good for you, you'll hand me the bean."

Rather reluctantly, he dropped the bean into her open palm, watching as she kneeled near their son again. He thought that, as the person who caused the damage to his son, it would be right for him to be the one to heal his son. But there was no arguing with Chi-Chi. He knew that he wouldn't be able to come a foot closer without the woman yelling at him, forcing him to step away from her son. Their son. And, though he knew that he could easily overpower Chi-Chi, he didn't want to. That would only make her angrier, something that he thought wouldn't be a good idea if he wanted to win her heart back. And it seemed as if he was on a bad enough track already; she refused to look at him, having simply clamped her small hand around the bean and turned away.

Goku couldn't help but stare at Chi-Chi as she pried her son's jaws opened as gently as she could when in such a foul mood. She wasn't the prettiest sight to behold when her temper was so high, but he still found her irresistably charming, even as she snarled, "I can't force the stupid bean down his throat!" He watched as she shoved her hand into his mouth, everything from the wrist down disappearing in that swollen mess. Her face reddened as she ran her other hand through her hair in frustration. "By Kami! It won't go down!"

"I've seen galactic slugs save people faster than this," Krillin muttered, Goten smirking in appreciation at this jab at Vegeta's old insult when things weren't going quickly enough. But Krillin only received a look of death from Chi-Chi, making him immediately back away from the sofa and out of the woman's smacking range. He tugged at his collar and whispered audibly in her son's ear, "Geez, I really don't know how you've put up with her sense of humor after all of these years. I'm just dying from laughing in here."

Another glare from Chi-Chi shut him up for the moment, though, as she stood up abruptly, throwing her bloodied hands up in defeat. "It's impossible!" she exclaimed, nearly dropping the bean in her anger. But she managed to catch it with the tips of her fingers before it fell, clenching it tightly in her grasp again as she moved around the coffee table and to the kitchen. "I give up!"

"But Chi-Chi-" Goku said desperately as she shoved past him. She couldn't just give up on Gohan... It was their son, after all."

She stared up at him furiously before slamming the bean into his chest, mocking him, "'Chi-Chi! Oh, Chi-Chi!'" Then, with her voice back to normal, she said, "Why don't you give it a try, Mr. I-Can-Do-Anything-Because-I'm-A-Big-Bad-Saiyan! You've always been able to do things better than I have!" And with that, she marched off into the kitchen, leaving Goku to fumble with the bean she had released.

"Yowch," Krillin murmured, his silence not lasting long. But Goku held the bean in his grip with determination to show Chi-Chi that he wasn't useless. He respected her, and he hoped that by doing her this favor, he would gain her respect. He ignored Krillin's comment and stood by his son's side, bending his knees until they were at approximately the same height. Then, using the same techniques Chi-Chi had earlier, he attempted to shove the bean down his son's throat. Everytime he tried pushing away his bloated tongue, however, Gohan would only cough up more blood, making it impossible to put anything there.

Goku clenched his teeth, trying to be gentle with his son but quickly becoming disheartened by this seemingly impossible task. It seemed as if there was nothing he could do right these days; if Chi-Chi came back in there without the bean being swallowed, he knew that she would go on another rant about how the Saiyan wasn't that great after all. But if he did manage to put the bean down Gohan's throat, he knew that Chi-Chi would be mad that he had done something successfully that she couldn't. He continued with methods of trial and error, trying different ways of creating a gap large enough for him to shove his large hand down his son's throat without him coughing up more blood. As he was about to give in, considering just ripping Gohan's jaw completely off with hopes that the Senzu Bean would be able to heal it, he saw that Chi-Chi had reentered the room, hands on hips.

Attempting to release all of her frustration in one breath, she walked up to the kneeling Saiyan, ready to admit defeat. It was obvious that Goku would be able to get Gohan to swallow the Senzu Bean by using one of his little martial arts tricks or something of that sort. The way that he seemed able to do everything she couldn't do and everything she could do better had always chagrined her; it was humiliating to always be one-upped by her ex-husband, whether it be in speed, strength, stamina, or how fast he could get to the grocery story and back. He even had a better temper than she did, making her only more furious. The only thing she really had him beat on was brains, and even then, she wasn't terribly far ahead. Sure, her father had engaged her in some studies when she was younger, but he had killed most of her earlier tutors. And then, by the time her father wasn't evil any more, she had become more interested in other things, like getting married... Bah, getting married. What a joke.

To her pleasure and surprise, Goku was still trying to stuff the tiny, green bean into their son's mouth. She smirked evilly, knowing the Saiyan did have limitations as she taunted, "It looks as if you can't do everything, can you?"

Goku was relieved to hear that she had calmed down after her brief tantrum, but he was still uneased by her tone of voice. He shrugged his shoulders and looked up at her, his own hand bloody now as he said, "Well, I could get the Senzu Bean down his throat, but it would require some sacrifices." Chi-Chi raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering just what the man was talking about. Feeling obliged to explain further, Goku asked, "How do you think he'd look without his lower jaw?"

This only forced Chi-Chi to clench her hands over the arm of the sofa and yell, "Goku!" Her teeth were gritted angrily as she leaned over, trying to make sure that he hadn't touched her baby boy.

"I was just kidding, Chi-Chi," he tried saying quite meekly, only to receive her eyes of death. He cowered back a bit and stood up to his full height, his hands held up to calm her down. "I promise, it was just a joke."

But Chi-Chi ignored his apologies, standing up on tiptoe in an attempt to loom over him as he backed away slowly. "You think it's funny to joke around like that?" she asked viciously, advancing upon the retreating Saiyan. "You think it's funny to make this poor, old woman almost suffer from a heart attack, hearing that her precious son's been hurt?"

"But you're not old, Chi-Chi," Goku said, trying one of those compliments Krillin had taught him to use a long time ago to soothe an enraged wife. He noticed Krillin sticking his thumb up as a sign of a good job behind Chi-Chi, who brushed his words to the side.

"You think it's funny to make me want to strangle you, Goku? Well, I'll have you know that it's not. What will be funny is, the next time you have to get a check-up and it turns out that you need a shot, I won't be there to hold your hand! No! I'll be right here with my son, trying to comfort him, seeing as he's basically the only thing I have left!" Goten flushed, hoping that his mother hadn't completely forgotten that she also had him, too. It was queer that she had also seemed to forget her own husband at this time, her face coming closer and closer to his father's. "And the two of us will be laughing at you, his father who never took the time to stay here and take care of him! We'll be laughing as-"

"Chi-Chi!" Krillin exclaimed, his fists waving through the air as he bit his lip. He didn't think that verbally abusing Goku would necessarily be dangerous, but he still didn't think of it as a very good idea. Through clenched teeth, seeing the two of them so close together with the Saiyan backed into the corner of the room, he insisted, "Let's keep thinking of ideas. If we can't get the Senzu Bean down Gohan's throat, what do we do now?"

Realizing just what she was doing, Chi-Chi dropped her arms back down to her side, immediately moving away from Goku and back to her unconscious son's side. Goku scratched the back of his head and nervously chuckled, "R-right. Now, anybody got an ideas?" That had been a bit too close for comfort; Chi-Chi had been staring him right in the face, hers only inches away from his, a familiar spark in her eyes. She always acted like that when nervous, making him wonder... Had she been about to kiss him? The way she had moved with such force, pushing him across the room with those black eyes. She had definitely gotten too close for him not to think that she still had feelings for him hidden somewhere deep inside. Even as a brave man, though, seeing that glint in those eyes had made him nervous. He had established boundaries during their first meeting that night, one in which he had swung her in his arms, transporting the two of them here.

This was completely different.

He was still in shock as he watched her stalk away as if nothing had been about to happen, making him only wonder if he had only been imagining the slight smile on her lips, the same playful one she used to always give him years ago. But he didn't have time to contemplate on whether this would be his chance of getting her back or not, seeing as Eighteen finally suggested, "Why don't you just have Dende heal him on Kami's Lookout? It seems as if it would be easier than trying to get him to swallow a bean."

Everybody's mouths fell open, never having thought of this possibility. Goku was astounded by it, his thoughts quickly shifting to what Chi-Chi had been planning on doing to why Piccolo hadn't just had Dende heal him earlier. But before he could even ponder over this, Goten exclaimed, "That's an awesome idea! Dad, you just have to use Instant Transmission and you'll get there in no time!"

Both Chi-Chi and Goku wilted at this, though for completely different reasons. Chi-Chi knew that, once again, her ex-husband would be the one to beat her. He would be the one to ultimately save Gohan, to show that, once again, his martial arts did come in handy. But Goku was perturbed by another reason all together: to return to Kami's Lookout would be to face Piccolo again. Though not the most threatening opponent, the Namekian certainly was terrifying. There was something about what he was saying that actually did make sense, and he didn't want that knowledge drilled into his head again. Piccolo had warned him to just leave everybody alone, to never go after his wife or kids or any of his friends again, though he had resisted. Of course, everything had taken a horrible turn, with one of his sons almost bleeding to death, though Goku couldn't help but wonder if he had been wrong about Chi-Chi. There might still have been a way to win his wife's heart back.

The whole room's eyes were on the Saiyan as he stepped forth, staying away from Chi-Chi, as he announced, "I can take him to Kami's Lookout." He had to put his own concerns behind in light of his son's life. It would be the only way to win back Chi-Chi's affections, though the looks she was giving him was rather venomous. He knew that he would go there, find Dende, get Gohan healed, and come back. If all went according to plan, they would all be able to finally start this family conference.

Of course, even with his hand on Gohan's arms, his fingers to his forehead, and visions of Kami's Lookout swirling through his mind, he couldn't help but notice the small pout of disapproval on Chi-Chi face as she stood back. He began doubting the plan immediately as he locked eye contact with Chi- Chi, the woman turning away instantly. It was a simple plan, though Goku was infamous for messing up the smallest of things.


	52. Lean over Fat

**Oh, I love Yajirobe! This is a great chapter to break 100,000 words on, author's notes included! Thanks, everybody!  
**

Korin and Yajirobe had retreated down the stairs to sleep in their cozy cots, deciding that the day had been overpacked with 'fun'. First there had been that blinding light from the Lookout above, forcing the pair of them to flee from the tower in search of safety. On their return trip, however, Yajirobe managed to crash his car three-quarters of the way up the tower, forcing him to climb up the rest of the way while carrying a snarky, white cat on his back. Then there was the fun in discovering that his jelly doughnuts had been eaten by Goku, and they had to help the clueless man find his way around. There was also that extremely pleasant experience with Piccolo dangling the fat warrior over the railing, coercing him into giving information of Goku's whereabouts. And just now, Goku had returned to force him out of some of his Senzu Beans, which he knew he was running low on.

So the day definitely hadn't been one of Yajirobe's better ones, but Korin didn't seem exhausted at all as they began climbing into their beds, managing to whack the fat man's rear end with his staff a few times. As Yajirobe rubbed his rump, he slipped under his thick blanket and asked, "Hey, what's that for?"

"For not sharing your Senzu Beans," the cat said, setting his staff against the bedpost as he laid down. "You know that I don't grow those things just so you can scarf them down, right?" Yajirobe only grunted as he rolled over in hopes that the cat would stop talking. But, to his dismay, Korin never seemed to be out of things to say. "Goku's a good guy. He's a little thick-headed, but we've both known him since he was a kid. He's got the patience of a rock by a river, though it seems he's about half as smart as one." He snickered a little into his white paw, looking up at the ceiling. "I've always wondered if he hit his head a little too hard as a boy."

There was a pause in Korin's monologue as they heard a thumping on the deck outside. Grabbing his staff and sliding off of the bed again, he muttered, "Who could that be at this time of night?" He bared his teeth, annoyed by this disturbance. It was a good thing that he hadn't blown out the lamp yet, or he really would have taught whoever was paying them a night visit a lesson.

Before he could even get close to the door, though, it swung open. Korin jumped back as Yajirobe grimaced, pulling himself further under the covers. It was Piccolo, but as Yajirobe liked to think, it was trouble. There was nobody who scared him more than this green man at the moment, knowing that if he was still angry, he could very well throw him off the edge of the tower. And he had already fallen off this tower once before, an experience he didn't want to be forced through again.

Piccolo glowered, his frame filling the doorway as he asked, "Where's Goku?" His voice was low and menacing, enough to make Yajirobe need a change of clothes. He then repeated, even more fiercely, "Where is Goku?"

He focused his eyes down and on the tiny cat standing in the middle of the room, clutching on to his stick with every emotion resembling fear striking him. But he didn't let this show as he put on a tough facade, plainly stating, "He's not here."

In truth, he was quite terrified of the Namekian. There was nobody he knew to be as ruthless in a caring manner; even Vegeta, who had been one of the meanest men Korin had ever had the displeasure in meeting, wasn't fooled into thinking that he was just doing what was best for everybody's wellbeing. Piccolo, however, was a different case. With the mind of Kami, he had slowly begun taking charge of the Lookout, trying to do Dende's job. In some ways, Korin thought he was better; he had the experience to be Guardian of Earth that the younger Namekian lacked. But there was also Piccolo's, to be put bluntly, evil to be dealt with, too. Piccolo himself was the reason why that nameless Namek had split into two in the first place, separating evil and good. Unfortunately, it seemed as if Piccolo's evil had corrupted the good that Kami held in his head.

"I sensed him here," Piccolo said, stepping further into the room and narrowing his eyes as he saw Yajirobe's shuddering figure under the covers. He approached the fat warrior and asked him, "Where is Goku? I sensed your pathetic energy alongside his. I know that you know!"

"I didn't see him!" came a muffled cry from under the covers, forcing Piccolo to yank them away and reveal a rather pathetic-looking man lying underneath them. He had both of his arms clenched around his stomach, protecting his most vital organ from that terror of a Namekian. But Piccolo refused to do anything but sneer with disgust at the man as he whimpered, "Goku wasn't here, I don't think! Just don't hurt me!"

As Yajirobe turned around, his face now planted in his pillow, Piccolo grabbed the back of his orange dress and assured him, "I'm not going to hurt you." Then he lifted the man off of his bed, letting the cowering Yajirobe spin through the air in his grip a bit until they were facing one another. "Or at least I won't hurt you too badly if you tell me where Goku went." He then generated an energy ball in his other palm, inducing the man to squirm around pathetically.

Then he smirked as he saw results. Piccolo dropped him back on his cot as Yajirobe yelled, "Fine, fine, I'll tell you!" There was a reason why Piccolo almost always went for Yajirobe when he could think straight, and that was because Yajirobe was a coward. Korin may have been a coward, too, but he wasn't so eager to turn his friends in to save his own hide.

He extinguished the ball of light in his hand as he saw Yajirobe's eyes dart nervously up at this towering figure. Placing his fists on his hips, the Namekian demanded, "Well?" He didn't have time for the blubbering fool to act too afraid to do anything.

"Well, uh, yeah," Yajirobe began as he sat back up and scrambled to the opposite corner of the tiny bed. Korin could only plant his face in his paw and shake his head, unable to understand why anybody would interrogate Yajirobe. Sure, sure, it was quick and efficient, but that man had trouble forming two coherent sentences. Piccolo seemed to be noticing this as he folded his arms and bared his teeth menacingly, prompting the man to speak a bit more quickly. "Yeah, so I was upstairs, just eating my Senzu Beans," Yajirobe continued, his voice clearing as he grabbed the sack from his bedside and displayed it. "Anyways, I was going to go to bed when, umm..."

Yajirobe was stuck in an inner struggle. He wasn't sure if he should have turned in his first and only friend to the green monster again or not; there were only so many times that Yajirobe could betray somebody before feeling guilty. But, then again, Goku did steal his jelly doughnuts and his Senzu Beans. And, Yajirobe reasoned, there were only so many times that somebody could steal food from him before they weren't really his friends anymore. The real question was whether he would rather have a useless friend or food and life.

The answer was made quite obvious at this rationale, shaking him from his thoughts as Piccolo prompted him, "And?"

"Well, I turned around and saw Goku standing there," he said, making up his mind. Plus, it wasn't as if he was giving anything away; it seemed as if Piccolo already knew that Goku had been there. "Then he basically stole two of my Senzu Beans. He ate one and then disappeared like a coward! And nobody runs away from Yajirobe without feeling his wrath!"

He ate another Senzu Bean? He was certain that it couldn't be from hunger; he'd already had one that day, and each one was guaranteed to fill a man for ten days. No, he had to have been injured... "What did he look like?" Piccolo asked sharply.

"He was tall and had a dorky haircut, but-"

Piccolo sighed and cut the man off, unable to comprehend how somebody could be so thick. Losing his patience, he leaned closer to the man and said, "That's not what I meant. Was he injured? Did he look crippled, cut, anything?" He wanted to know if somebody had really beaten Goku up when he couldn't. Even with a Special Beam Cannon, he had done so little to maim the man that he could get up and walk around, a little sore, but nothing unendurable. It had been absolutely humiliating.

"He had some blood on his shirt, but that was all I saw," Yajirobe said, now freely talking about Goku. Then, with a slight grin, "He was also kind of holding his, well... his privates, as you might call them. I think some sucker might have kicked him good there."

Piccolo rolled his eyes, certain that a Saiyan's privates, as they were called, were better protected than that. He refused to comment on Yajirobe's idea of Goku getting hit there, deciding that the theory was ludicrous. Instead, he pondered over the information about the blood on Goku's shirt, wondering just what that had been about. Had somebody managed to injure Goku, or was that somebody else's blood? He couldn't imagine whose it would be, seeing as Goku had no enemies on Earth, or at least to his knowledge he didn't. He would never spill a friend or family member's blood, Piccolo was certain. The only plausible conclusion that Piccolo could come up with was that he had tackled some random burglar in the act or something, doing a bit too much damage to him. There was no other explanation.

"Where is he?" Piccolo asked fiercely, snapping the fat man out of visions of Goku screaming with somebody kicking him in that sensitive region. After a last snicker, Yajirobe looked up at Piccolo quite seriously, though that didn't last long. Within a few seconds, after trying to press his lips together and resume this conversation, he burst out laughing again. It was just too much for the pudgy man to handle; he could imagine the expression on Goku's face after somebody had hit him in that region. It was priceless. However, Piccolo was not so easily amused, as he leaned over the cot and pressed, "Where is he? Answer me!"

"S-sorry," Yajirobe stuttered, his hand clamped over his mouth to conceal his laughter. When he finally calmed down, he inhaled deeply and exhaled, a lopsided grin still on his large face. "I don't really know where he went. H-he didn't tell m-m-me." And with that, he began howling again, leaning forward as he held his stomach. It wasn't until Korin briskly walked over there and hit him over the head with the staff that he finally stopped. He rubbed the tender lump on his head and asked angrily, "What was that for?"

"For being an idiot!" Korin exclaimed, unable to believe that he actually put up with this guy every day. It was ridiculous how entertained Yajirobe could be by the slightest of things, along with being downright embarrassing. Korin looked up at the threatening-looking, green man and apologized, "I'm sorry, but Yajirobe isn't exactly the best source of information. He gets... distracted."

Piccolo only harrumphed and turned himself away from the duo, asking, "So neither of you know where Goku got off to?" They both shook their heads as Piccolo sighed, "It looks as if I'll have to find him myself."

"Where are you going to look?" Korin asked, intrigued.

"Capsule Corp. will be my first stop," Piccolo had already decided, his green hand on his cape. He would see if he could sense the man's energy from there. If he couldn't, he would probably try Chi-Chi's mansion again, then Mt. Paozu, and then the Kame House. It was absurd that he couldn't locate his energy, though he supposed that it made sense for the man to try hiding it.

He marched out of the door and flew off, his teeth gritted as he left the two behind. Such imbeciles...


	53. To See Through a Genie

**Well, here's some more Trunks!**

Having just fetched a pitcher of water from one of the numerous storage rooms the palace had, Mr. Popo returned to the large, white room lit brilliantly by a fire proved by the lantern Dende had still been carrying around with him. The Guardian of Earth had looked for him after all other conversation stopped outside, abandoning Kibito Kai to be back by the genie's side. He wasn't used to having company, and though he felt bad for leaving the Kai out with Piccolo, all guilt washed away very quickly. He hoped that the Kai would leave soon, as there was obviously no business for him to attend to on Earth at the moment. And as for Piccolo, he could care less what his brethren did; to force Piccolo off of the Lookout would be quite impossible, but he didn't mind him as much. At least he was quiet.

Dende grimaced slightly as he heard Kibito Kai run through the corridors, yelling, "Dende? Where did you go?" He wished that the Supreme Kai would just leave; it was rather late, and even the Guardian of Earth needed some sleep. But it was only a few seconds before the purple Kai managed to find his way into the room, his voice unnaturally loud and rushed. "I think Piccolo's unhappy!"

Both tired and annoyed, Dende spun around and placed a finger to his mouth, signaling quiet. Kibito Kai immediately pursed his lips, as he saw a sleeping Trunks lying on one of the beds. With a whispered apology, he said in a considerably calmer tone, "Piccolo doesn't seem very happy right now. I think he's going to hunt down Goku, but he said that he'd come back for me afterwards.

The Kai sounded all too excited about this prospect. Dende raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask why he was showing such enthusiasm, Trunks stirred in his bed. Mr. Popo quickly poured the water into a glass on the bedside table, forcing it into the awakening man's hand. "Here, Trunks," the black genie said, trying to comfort him. "Take a few sips, and I'm sure that you will feel better." His giant, red lips curved into a smile as Trunks' grip tightened around the glass, tugging it from him.

Trunks sat up, feeling his head rush as he did so. He clenched his teeth together in pain, only able to focus in and out on the glass of water. The dazed look in his eyes prompted Dende to ask, "How do you feel?" He had rushed up to the foot of the bed, as had the Supreme Kai. "Any better?"

"I can't imagine," the Supreme Kai muttered, holding his chin in thought as he examined the man sitting on the bed. "I mean, the way that Mr. Popo managed to knock him out so quickly, I'd think the wind would be knocked out of him."

Trunks' eyes lilted upwards, catching a rather sheepish genie with a lopsided smile. But Trunks could only frown as he waited for his mind to focus, finally asking, "You knocked me out?" The thought was kind of insulting. Piccolo, maybe, but a genie? He was a Prince of Saiyans; there was no way that some caretaker of the grounds would be able to knock him out.

"Why, yes," Mr. Popo admitted rather abashedly. He folded his arms, turning his eyes towards the ground. "I'm sorry, Trunks..." He hadn't meant any damage to the man.

But the only damage that Trunks felt now was a bit to his pride as he drained the glass of water, setting it down on the bedside table. Then, with a hand on his forehead, he looked around and asked, "What happened? I can't... remember anything."

"What?" Kibito Kai asked incredulously. "You... you don't remember? Anything?" How could he have not remembered the way that he had been ready to kill and then brought down so brutally? But Dende knew. The Namekian slid his eyes over to Mr. Popo suspiciously, who was quite pleased with himself. Yes, he had been a rather tricky genie that night. Not wanting anymore fighting to persist, he had 'accidentally' wiped the poor man's memory clean with the same invisible beam that had made him unconscious. It had been fun, using powers that he hadn't had to use in several hundreds of years. He wasn't sure if it would still work, but it seemed as though the beam had done just the trick. The man had fallen back over, as he had planned.

But now it was Mr. Popo's turn to leave his mouth slightly ajar as in shock, priding himself on his acting. He pried the empty glass from Trunks' grasp and refilled it, listening intently as Trunks murmured, "No, I don't remember anything. All I remember is coming back from Suno's to see Goku, but I really can't remember anything after that." He cupped his chin in a hand in thought, leaning forward on the bed. It was strange to have had forgotten something after simply being knocked out by the genie. He had an excellent memory for short-term matters, at the very least. It wasn't like him to simply lose all memory of everything that had happened in the past few hours without some type of otherworldly help. Some type of help that only a genie, a magical, mystical being, could provide...

As Mr. Popo pressed the glass back into Trunks' hand, urging that he take another drink to further awaken him, the demi-Saiyan simply stared into its contents. He watched as the water rippled slightly in his shaky hand, rocking back and forth from side to side. Then he swung his arm out to the right, having taken ten seconds just to watch the glass, and with ease he squeezed his hands, the broken glass and water falling at the genie's feet. Mr. Popo jumped back as gracefully as a man could, surprised by the ferocity in the man's action. It had been one of the only glasses up on the Lookout, disheartening the black genie. It looked as if he would have to go shopping again soon, but that didn't matter at the moment. When he saw the demi-Saiyan's lip began to curl, it actually frightened the genie. What had happened now?

Though immortal, Mr. Popo knew that there were certain circumstances even he did not want to be put in. Being on the receiving end of a demi- Saiyan's glare was one of those, knowing that no good would come of it. He stepped back further as the demi-Saiyan began moving out of bed, planting his holed socks next to the puddle of broken glass. Then, still sitting on the edge of the bed, Trunks pointed his finger at the genie and accused, "You knocked me out."

"Yes, I did," the genie only replied. Dende and Kibito Kai were bewildered, unable to comprehend why Trunks sounded so uncertain of something that they had just established. But Mr. Popo knew why Trunks had said such a thing; it was that Saiyan pride. He had forgotten, however, that he also had the signature Briefs intelligence, a dangerous combination in such an unruly man.

"I haven't been knocked out by anybody in years," he simply stated, the genie nodding along. "I haven't ever been knocked out and not remembered where I was or what I was doing." The genie gulped slightly, realizing that this was taking a bad turn. "I've always had a great memory, able to remember what I did yesterday or the day before. And I still can. I just can't remember what I was doing two hours ago."

The brilliance of deduction - it was something that Mr. Popo hadn't had to deal with in a long time, not since Kami was his own individual. He had forgotten that not everybody's mind wasn't as clouded as Piccolo's or nonexistent as Dende's. No, it had been a long time since he had been forced to deal with an individual that could think and rationalize, something he had begun losing faith in with the Namekians he had been hanging around with. But this wasn't a Namekian. This was a Saiyan-Human hybrid, a thing he had very little experience with. He was able to hold the grudge of a Saiyan but have the logic of a human. It was quite new to the genie, but he still knew something: Trunks knew something.

Trunks stood completely on his feet, ignoring the weariness in his tendons and recognizing the sinew in his thought process. Mr. Popo had them all fooled. The genie had them all fooled. He had been guilty of more than just knocking the demi-Saiyan out; he had actually gone a step forward, erasing his mind. Now he couldn't remember a thing from those two hours, leaving him not to wonder what he had lost, but rather to learn of what he could gain. There was revenge, and something or another about his father's pride, but that was all he could think of from those two hours. What was it that he had done to cause the genie to take such a step as this?

He wasn't exactly angry; he was simply frustrated. He had been left a confused man, surrounded by people he hadn't seen in several years, if ever. What exactly was he even doing on Kami's Lookout? He could recognize this room from when he was a small child, back when he was being forced to learn the Fusion Dance with Goten, but that didn't explain a thing. Why had he returned?

With both bitterness and confusion sweeping him, he approached the genie, asking in a harsher tone than he had meant, "What happened? Why am I here, Mr. Popo? Why did you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, Trunks," the genie apologized, quite sincerely. He clasped his hands together and stood still with watching, black eyes. He now felt guilty for erasing the man's memory, having not realized that he would figure out that his mind was erased. He had been hoping that the man would simply wake up, unsure of what was going on, but that he would still take it all in and accept it. But Trunks was not a gullible man. He was cunning and suspicious, misguided, yes, but cunning and suspicious all the same. "I was hoping you wouldn't realize that I had not only knocked you out, but that I had also erased your memory."

Kibito Kai and Dende dropped their jaws, finally having caught up on what the genie had done to Trunks. It was hopefully for the better, but with the dirty sneer the demi-Saiyan was throwing at the genie, nobody could be certain. With those vile memories gone, he would hopefully forget his lust for Yamcha's blood and for his father's return, retreating back where he had come from and never bothering anybody again. But that wasn't the case.

"Tell me what happened," Trunks demanded, his fist tightening as he stood in one place, only a few feet in front of the genie. As Kibito Kai opened his mouth, Trunks only growled, "Not you! I want to know what he has to say." And he emphasized the 'he', jabbing his finger in the genie's direction. But the poor Mr. Popo was flabbergasted, not knowing of what to say. This wasn't what he had expected to happen at all. Trunks was impatient, continuing, "Come on! Hurry up!"

"I'm going to go get Piccolo!" Dende announced, running away from the scene on his scrawny, green legs. Trunks let him run, deciding that this was far more important than stopping the tiny, green Namekian. He would be done with Mr. Popo by the time he could return, and by that time, he would be gone. After getting vital information out of the genie, he would leave again, fulfilling whatever he had come back here to do. He knew he had a purpose for being here; he just wasn't sure of what it was.

Dende fled, leaving Kibito Kai to be the only spectator in this match. What neither he nor Trunks saw was the finger Mr. Popo had pointed at the man's chest, trying to knock him out again. If they could retry this, to let him wake up again and not figure out that his memory had been erased, this task of taming Trunks would be easier. But before he could shoot the invisible beam at his opponent to subdue him, he saw a familiar figure appear at Kibito Kai's side, startling the purple man.

Nobody could believe it. Goku was there. He had appeared, son in hand, both of them bloody. Kibito Kai jumped back as they all observed him curiously. His clothes were soiled by blood, though he looked healthy. It was Gohan who looked far worse off, his figure slumped under his father's arm. It was Trunks who really couldn't believe what he saw, struck by fear by Goku. This was his father's rival, looking no worse for the wear seven years later. He looked the exact same as he had years ago, the same person he had been.

Goku only smiled sheepishly and, seeing Trunks and Mr. Popo frozen in their fighting poses, he scratched the back of his head and asked, "Is this a bad time?"


	54. Unconscious Joy

**Argh, school's giving me writer's block! It's a short chapter, but I hope you still like it all the same!**

"Goku!" Mr. Popo exclaimed, letting his mind slide from the restless purple-haired demi-Saiyan for the moment. He returned his arms to his sides as he faced the tall Saiyan, his horrified face bobbing up and down, his eyes unable to find a place to start looking.

Mr. Popo was horrified by what he saw, allowing his mouth to fall open in genuine shock for the first time that long and tiresome night. There were many things wrong with the man he had just seen earlier that day, a healthy-looking individual who was as cheery as they came. Goku now had drying blood over the front of his tattered, blue gi, something he feared had resulted from that fight with Gohan he had sensed earlier. His fears were only confirmed as his eyes darted down to the body hanging limply under his arm, and though his face was turned away, Mr. Popo could still sense that something was wrong.

Goku had his face in a rather uncomfortably grimace as he scratched the back of his head, noting the genie's apprehension. He had simply asked if it was a bad time to drop by, knowing that they could return later if Mr. Popo and Trunks were sparring, but the genie obviously didn't mind helping them out. He rushed past Trunks and Kibito Kai, taking Gohan into his arms and laying him down quickly on one of the beds.

It was then that Gohan's horribly disfigured face was shown to everybody, the Kai and purple-haired demi-Saiyan stepping back in disgust. Mr. Popo quickly began dabbing at the man's face with the edge of the white sheet he was laying on, trying to stop any excess blood from coming out. But, for the most part, Chi-Chi had done a good job of cleaning her son up; there was little that Mr. Popo could do for the moment except for look up at Goku and ask, "What happened?"

His voice had trembled a little, anxious to know what had gone wrong. It was that fight, he knew, that little fight Mr. Popo had allowed them to continue in hopes that they would work whatever animosity they had for the other out of their systems. They were Saiyans, and he knew that Saiyans fought, but he had no idea that it had gotten so out-of-hand. There was something strange about this, and he wondered if Piccolo might have been right. Maybe this wasn't the same Goku they had known so long ago. Maybe it was somebody else. But whoever he was, he was certainly strong. Goku had managed to make his way out of the battle, knocking his son out with no apparent scars or damage to himself

Goku had the other Senzu Bean still in his pocket, running it through his fingers anxiously as he said, "It's kind of a long story, but... well, anyways, I'd don't want to go into details right now." His teeth were clenched as he glanced towards the door nervously, inquiring, "Is Dende here?"

"No, he just ran out to get Piccolo," the genie told the Saiyan, the immediate panic in having seen Gohan in such a pitiful state easing a bit. He kept the reddened sheet corner folded in his hand as he realized just why Goku was asking such a thing. "Don't worry, though. He'll be back in no time, and it doesn't appear that Gohan's in any danger for the moment." This much was true. The demi-Saiyan's breathing was still slow and shallow, but was constant, only a few hiccups in the breathing rate every minute.

These words were not ones that Goku wanted to hear, though. He was glad that Piccolo didn't know of his presence here, yet, but he wanted to keep it that way. With his lips pursed in thought, he finally asked, "Do you... do you think I can leave Gohan here?" There was hesitation in his voice, showing that though he did care for the boy, he had his other concerns, too. Kibito Kai raised a fine, white eyebrow at this, but Mr. Popo only nodded, lowering his eyes back down to Gohan. He didn't know why Goku didn't want to stay with his son to assure that he made full recovery, but he was sure that Goku had his reasons.

After thinking for a second, he further requested, "And do you think you could tell him to come and meet me at the Kame House after he wakes up? He doesn't have to if he's still mad at me, but I think he'll be in a better mood after Dende heals him." After a slight pause, Mr. Popo nodding along with his ramblings, he added, "So do you mind if I go now?" With the genie giving his full permission with a shake of his head, Goku said, "Thanks."

He didn't want to face Piccolo at the moment, and if Dende was going to get Piccolo, it was logical to assume that he wouldn't be able to have one without the other. He was sure that Gohan would make full recovery, and even if he didn't, what did it matter? There were always the Dragon Balls to be used; he was sure that Shenron wouldn't mind fixing his son back together or even bringing him back to life. It was rare that there was something out of that dragon's power, and he was sure that such requests wouldn't be.

But as he was lifting his fingers to his forehead to return to the Kame House, Trunks finally spoke up. "G-Goku?" he stuttered uncertainly, unable to believe his eyes. This was really his father's rival, the same man who had been like an uncle to him. It was him in the flesh, the same man he had been so many years ago. He was the same height and had the same hair, age not getting to him at all. His eyes were bright and alive and... happy. Happy. How could this man still be happy after all of these years? How could he still be happy after seeing his son torn apart like this? But Trunks was unable to ask those questions, only repeating, "Goku?"

"Oh, hey, Trunks!" the man said, finally acknowledging his friend's son. Then he turned to Kibito Kai and also said, "It's nice to see you, too, Supreme Kai! I would stay and chat, but I've got a few things to do right now." And with those few words, he completed the act of Instant Transmission, placing his fingers firmly against his forehead and disappearing from the spot.

Trunks could only fall to his knees where he stood, his eyes glued to that spot his father's enemy had disappeared. It was... remarkable. After two of them hadn't seen one another for seven, eight years, he acted as if nothing had changed. Everything was the same to the Saiyan, nothing seeming out of the ordinary with the two of them seeing each other for the first time in years. In his own mind, nothing could have changed so much. His father was gone and his mother remarried, yet the same had happened with the Saiyan, except that it was his rival that was gone and his wife remarried. Why didn't he seem as torn apart by these changes, so hurt and confused?

No, Goku was as confident as he had ever been, angering the man. But now was not the time to let his rage sweep over him again, as there was Gohan, laying innocently in the white bed next to the one he had been laying in just moments before. Trunks couldn't be certain of where his fellow demi-Saiyan had acquired his injuries; from what he remembered, the man had always been extremely powerful. The only person that came to mind that had strength to match was Goku, but that seemed extreme. Could that man who had just come in here so shamelessly dump his son off? Did he not have the honor to stay by his son's side to reassure that what he had done had only been a mistake, or was he so sure that he knew it wasn't a mistake? Did he see something for more than it really was?

Trunks bit his lower lip and trudged to the foot of the bed, watching as Mr. Popo, the genie he had just been angered by, helped to mend the man's injuries. Gohan looked quite dreadful with his jaw to the side, his nose pressed against his face, and drying blood streaking out of his lopsided grin. The man was passed out, but that little, open smile he had only frightened Trunks more. He leaned back, taking a deep breath as he the edges of Gohan's mouth twitched, only bringing more attention to that awful, little smile. Trunks winced, having no idea of why the demi-Saiyan looked so happy.

Was he dreaming dreams he hadn't dreamt in years?


	55. Ending Something Great

**Not much to say about this one, except for be prepared.**

Krillin placed a fist to his hip, surveying the mess of a room. The carpet was wet, and there were blood stains on the sofa. He had just barely managed to catch a vase Goku had elbowed after using Instant Transmission, and as he was propping it back up on the table, he couldn't help but notice how strange it was that Chi-Chi had not reacted. She normally would have been the one to catch it and then make a fuss over how messy the room had become, launching the cleaning expedition once again, but tonight was an odd night. She only had a vacant look in her eyes as she stared at the spot that her ex- husband and oldest son had vanished.

After shifting Valese in his arms so that he was cradling her, Goten went upstairs to lay the unconscious girl down. So, after he left, there were only three left in the room. Krillin glanced to his wife for help, but her expression was stony, as if she was thinking. With a sigh, he approached Chi-Chi quite tentatively, uncertain of what she would do. He felt bad for what he had told her earlier, and though what most of what she had said was uncalled for, it hadn't been right for him to argue back. Facing her, he placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to say comfortingly, "I'm sorry, Chi-Chi - I'm not sure what I can say, except for that I didn't mean anything mean that I had said earlier."

Chi-Chi only nodded, ignoring most of what he said. Having realized this, Krillin retracted his hand from her shoulder. He had no idea of how to console this woman because he wasn't used to dealing with women like her. Eighteen was, for the most part, emotionless. Her actions were predictable unless something enraged her passionately, in which case she did the most erratic things. But Chi-Chi was always like that. The short man could never be sure of whether she was about to explode or about to exclaim her joy, but at this time, she did neither of these things. It was odd for her emotions to be so vacant, something that Krillin found unsettling coming from her, but he quickly took back that wish.

It was then that, almost as quickly as he had disappeared, Goku appeared again. Strangely enough, Krillin noticed that he hadn't brought Gohan along, but he wasn't the only one to notice this minuscule detail. Chi-Chi's face fell in shock only to recover quickly, contorting with anger once again.

Goku smiled sheepishly with his hands open. His dark eyes twinkled mischievously as he saw Chi-Chi's reaction, prompting him to explain, "Look, Chi-Chi, I know-"

"Where's Gohan?" Chi-Chi demanded in a frail voice, one that suggested it would crack at any second. Her small fists were furled by her side as her eyes darted all over her ex-husband's figure, trying to affirm that this wasn't some sick joke. Sadly, though, it seemed to be. He had returned empty- handed, her precious baby boy being left somewhere while dying.

"Chi," he said, trying to comfort her by using his old nickname for her, "I know that this looks bad, but don't worry! Gohan's fine. I dropped him off with Mr. Popo, and he said that I-"

"You dropped him off?" she asked incredulously, her heart plummeting. He had dropped her oldest son off with some toothless genie who rode around on a magic carpet? Then she gritted her teeth, repeating angrily as she held one of her fists up to his face, "You dropped him off?"

Noting her rising voice and aggressive position, Goku held his hands up defenselessly and backed away. "Chi-Chi, don't get angry," His voice dropped as he backed into the sofa, plopping down on it. He was cornered again, a position he didn't like to be in when his ex-wife was hovering over him so threateningly.

"Oh, I'm not angry," she snarled, taking full advantage of the height she had over him now. "I'm furious."

"Come on, Chi-Chi, he'll be back as soon as Dende heals him. Then we can start our family conference, and we-"

"We aren't having a family conference," she informed him, leaning in closer to him. "We're going to have a funeral where we'll throw your body into the ocean after I'm through with you."

Goku couldn't help but laugh nervously as she rolled a sleeve up to her dress, exposing the pale, sagging skin on her arm. If this was any other woman over the age of fifty threatening him with death, he wouldn't have taken them seriously. But Chi-Chi wasn't any other woman, and he knew her well enough to recognize that this was a dangerous position. Admittedly, it was more dangerous for her than for him, seeing as she'd hurt herself before managing to scratch him, but it was dangerous nevertheless.

Krillin couldn't help but shake his head, wondering just what that woman was getting herself into. But it shocked him as she continued leaning forward, actually placing her hand on Goku's shoulder to support her balance. Her face was only inches away now from her ex-husband's, only her shaking fist between the two as she muttered something fiercely to Goku, for his ears alone. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad - he could see Goku reddening, an uncomfortable smile on his face. There was nothing she could do to hurt him, or so the small man thought.

Uncertain of whether or not he had heard her correctly, Goku stammered, "Wait... what did you say?" His eyes were wide and unsuspecting. He had heard these words earlier that day from a certain, threatening Namekian; Piccolo had warned him, but he had been ignored. And now he was hearing these words again, the words that would bring about the end of him.

With her voice so quiet that he was forced to read her lips, she said, "I told you to leave."

His heart thudded in the silence of the room, unable to grasp what she had just said. He thought that she had just been joking this whole time, putting on the air she used to. She liked others to think of herself as being in charge, and he had thought that this whole night had been a part of this act. But, no. Her eyes were red with anger, her face twisted with anger. There was no doubt now that that anger was real; he just hadn't been expecting it. Underneath, he had known Chi-Chi to be a woman with a lot of personality, one who liked to exercise her usual image of power for fun. This wasn't just a game, though. She was serious.

It was then that Goten reappeared at the top of the steps, looking at the two of them and laughing, "It looks like things are getting feisty!" He had good reason to believe that the two had made up. They were both extremely close together, and Chi-Chi had her hand clenched on Goku's shoulder. She had even lowered her fist to allow him to read her lips, making it so that they had an unobstructed view of one another. But at that moment, Goten couldn't have been any more wrong.

Chi-Chi spun her head around and sent him an infamous death glare. With bite to her voice, she commanded rather hoarsely, "Stop joking around and go to your room, son."

The grin that had been on Goten's face dropped instantly, seeing that his mother's rage was real. His face twitched disbelievingly as he protested, "Mom, I'm almost twenty-six. I'm pretty sure that-"

"Go to your room," she demanded again, her voice still that deadly quiet. He bit his bottom lip nervously as he exchanged looks of uncertainty with Krillin, unable to catch his father's eyes. His father, Goku, was sitting there blankly, no emotion except for horror on his face. He sat there with Chi- Chi's grip still tight on him, not even acknowledging his son's presence in the room. And Eighteen was simply watching in the corner, her mind whirring with the newest happenings. So Goten complied with his mother's request, marching back into the room he had just left Valese in. It may not have been his room, but it was definitely a room.

That left Goku to simply look up at his wife pitifully as she spun back around, keeping herself more distant. Now audibly, she said, "I'm not going to mess around with you anymore, Goku. I'm married now, and I have no room in my life for what you might think is funny." With a shuddering breath, she backed away from the man and pointed to the door. "Now leave."

Krillin's jaw dropped as Goku stood up, the man's large stature diminutive now. With that expression of child-like confusion on his face, he said weakly, "I'll go, Chi. I really will..." His shoulders drooped as he made his way around the coffee table and to the door. "If that's what you really want..."

Chi-Chi's face was expressionless as he watched her ex-husband make his way slowly to the door. She couldn't help but have conflicted feelings. Whereas she was happy that he was actually obeying her, knowing that she couldn't deal with him being in her life, she couldn't help but feel that she was letting something go. The two had shared something special during their time together, but that was in the past. The present was now, and she had a husband to take care of. Goku could fend for himself, but her Samuel actually needed her.

It was in only a few more steps, forcing himself with each one to not turn back and sweep her up in his arms, that Goku made it to the front door. He paused as he set his hand on the doorknob, turning back to say, "Chi-Chi." She looked at him, that desperation in his eyes. With a small, wistful sigh, he said, "You loved me before I loved you. But I'm changed." He clenched his teeth, almost unable to say it directly to her face. But he kept his eyes glued to that face, the face that he still thought belonged to him. "Now I- I don't know what I'll do."

Chi-Chi pursed her lips to prevent herself from making an outburst in the midst of this, not wanting to hear what was coming. But it was inevitable. "I don't know what I'll do without you. I'm sorry that I've been gone for so long. It's taken me a while to figure it out, but I love you." He stopped there, turning his head away in embarrassment. He, the once fearless and mighty Goku, never shamed of anything, was now reduced to muttering, "I love you."

She gulped as he opened the door, sliding out quietly and without resistance. She only exchanged a brief glance with Krillin, the two of them unsure of what just happened. All she knew was that he still loved her. He still, after all of those years, really did love her.

**THE END (kidding!)  
**


	56. Refusal to Let Go

**Don't worry about Goku. He's a big boy, and he knows what he's doing (I think).**

Kibito Kai finally managed to press his lips together in amazement, having been unable to form a word in Goku's presence. It wasn't the man that had shocked him into silence; it had been what he had in his arms. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to roam over the limp man's body, hardly paying attention to the full Saiyan, even as he had greeted him. Something was wrong with this image. Here was the savior of the universe holding his dying son in his arms, unable to explain the cause of the injuries, and disappearing shortly after. He hoped that his fears weren't true. If it was indeed Goku that had committed a crime of such power, he wasn't sure that this was the same man he had know only a few years ago.

He walked closer to the bed, wrapping his hand around the metal bedpost as he examined the body now on the bed. Below the neck, the peaceful Gohan looked just as he had ever been, as if he was only sleeping. But his breathing jerked every few seconds, his body seizing and bringing the Kai's attention up to that mangled face of his. Gohan, the one who had ascended past the rest of his kind so often, was now so defenseless in bed, his jaw slackened to the side and his cheeks puffed and swollen. His nose was slammed in, Mr. Popo dabbing at it with a handkerchief every few seconds to stop the thin stream of blood running from one of his nostrils. It was a disgusting sight, one that the Supreme Kai could hardly bring himself to look at. This was Gohan, the only Saiyan to have reached the Ultimate form. Now, the Kai couldn't help but note that he didn't seem to be in such ultimate shape.

The purple Kai brushed some of his long, white hair out of his eyes, turning to look at Trunks. Trunks, too, was staring intently at the figure on the bed, though his expression was that of anger. But he seemed to be biting back the rage inside, only staring at the man of his own kind with clenched teeth. The demi-Saiyan darted his eyes towards him, making him look away instantly. Trunks scared him, in all honesty. The man had been a naughty child, though that playfulness had died away, revealing a bitter man. Kibito Kai couldn't help but glance away uncomfortably, looking back at the defenseless man on the bed.

It was then that Trunks leaned forward, his scowl fading away to be replaced by pure concern. He was bent over the foot of the bed now, his hand still clenched on the railing as Kibito Kai scooted away cautiously. Releasing the tension in his jaw, Trunks asked, "What happened to him? It wasn't..." And Mr. Popo understood exactly what he was going to ask. Trunks thought that he was the only one in the dark about what had happened, but nobody could be certain. Yes, it had been during those two hours of lost memory, but even the genie didn't have an answer for him. As magical as he seemed to be at times, there was only so much he could do.

"I'm sorry, Trunks, but I can't say that I'm sure," Mr. Popo confessed, looking up at the two at the foot of the bed. He saw the expression of curiosity on Trunks' face fall, and he saw the dubious expression on Kibito Kai's face only look more puzzled. He sighed, taking a last dab at Gohan's face before standing up. Seeing the disappointment the two of them held at his inability to answer that question, he said, "I can guess, though."

Trunks smirked slightly, the first smile his face had held that night that wasn't full of dark intentions. Kibito Kai noticed this with interest, finally gaining the courage to say from the back of the room, "I just hope it wasn't..." But he was unable to finish his sentence. Just saying what he feared would only make it truer. But, partially to his dismay, Mr. Popo didn't fear the truth as he did.

"Goku," was all that left the black genie's lips, and though the fact didn't scare him, it didn't appease him. He was fairly certain that it was Goku. He was the only one to combat with his son at night, a fight that Mr. Popo wished he could have followed more closely. But he had his own duties to tend to here, unable to guide Goku through every step of his life. There came a time in every man's life in which he needed to make decisions on his own, to lose his mentor's guidance. Even Goku, one of the most naive but good-hearted men, needed to move on. He only hoped that the fighter had made the right decision.

Hearing the name confirmed made Trunks release the tension in his shoulders, exhaling deeply. He dropped his head, looking at the bed sheet. Kibito Kai saw this lowered defense on the demi-Saiyan's part as a breach in his security, making him point at the man behind his back, signaling for the genie to take this opportunity to knock him out again. But Mr. Popo only shook his head, realizing now that it wouldn't be a wise idea. If the situation got out of hand again, yes, he would be prepared to subdue the man again. But at the moment, the genie decided that this would be his best chance to talk some sense into the man. So, completely ignoring the Kai's request to knock the man out, Mr. Popo asked, "Would you mind fetching Dende? I believe he's just outside."

Kibito Kai swiftly dropped his hands back to his side as Trunks glanced back at him. Fortunately, it didn't appear that Trunks had seen a thing, because after nodding anxiously for a second, the demi-Saiyan glued his eyes to the mattress again. The purple Kai sent one glare at the genie before storming out, unhappy with his decision to not deal with the dangerous man.

With the Supreme Kai gone, Mr. Popo blotted at Gohan's face a little before saying, not looking up, "Trunks, I believe you have potential." The purple-haired demi-Saiyan looked up, startled. He pressed his lips together suspiciously as he watched the genie take care of the man who had basically served as an older brother to him. Mr. Popo said nothing more for a short while, allowing him to think over this. It was the genie who then, making sure that the Kai hadn't returned, spoke up again. "I'm not sure if you realize the vast potential you have."

The genie was careful in choosing his words, careful not to bring up anything about pride or his father. To remind Trunks of these two things immediately would be to force his memory from him again. Mr. Popo didn't want to have to do such a thing again, hoping that this time, he would be able to keep those thoughts from festering in his mind. Unfortunately, though, Trunks' mind was already wondering.

The purple-haired man ignored the genie to ask, staring at Gohan's face, "Why does he look so happy?"

Curiously, Mr. Popo lowered the cloth from the demi-Saiyan's face to see that Trunks was right. There was a rather crooked smile in place, only making the genie chuckle, "You're right. He certainly looks happier than you do."

Trunks scowled at this remark, realizing that the genie was right. Ever since he had woken up, he had felt nothing but anger or frustration. He thought it was justified, though. He had just lost his memory from the last two hours, a memory that he thought must have been important if it was important enough to erase. And now, the genie wouldn't explain a thing. He couldn't tell him what had happened to bring him to Kami's Lookout or why Gohan was beat up so badly. All that he knew was that it had been Goku to deliver such blows to the man's face, to put that lopsided grin on his face. But Trunks said none of this, staring intently at the man laying on the bed.

Mr. Popo tracked the Kai's energy, assured that he was still outside, taking his time in searching for the Namekian. So, knowing that he had at least a few more minutes of time to talk to Trunks one-on-one, he pushed the conversation. "There's a reason why he's so happy," the genie said contentedly, pretending he held the largest secret in the world. Trunks could only cock an eyebrow, wondering if the man was bluffing. This was the genie who had managed to erase his memory under the other's noses. He wouldn't put it past him to have something else in store, like a life lesson.

But he was generous enough to play along with the genie's game. He gave a small, sardonic smirk, looking Mr. Popo in the eyes while pushing a dangling strand of hair behind his ear. "Why's he so happy?" he asked, his voice sour.

"Why wouldn't he be?" the genie countered as he turned away, busying himself again with the task of cleaning Gohan's face.

Trunks furrowed his eyebrows, unable to comprehend what that genie meant. Why wouldn't he be? There were a lot of reasons why Gohan wouldn't be happy at that moment. "That doesn't make any sense," the demi-Saiyan muttered, his sneer more pronounced as he leaned even further over the bed. He held on to the railings with the gloves Suno had given him, his grip tightening as he glared at the genie.

"What?" the genie simply asked, contenting himself with continually blotting out the small trail of blood from Gohan's nose.

"That!" Trunks exclaimed, lifting his hand from the metal-wrought frame of the bed and tossing it in the air. "Gohan was just beat up, and by his father, no less. Doesn't that call for being unhappy?"

"Not necessarily," the genie replied, smiling slightly with his face turned away from the demi-Saiyan. "You do realize that he could have learned something, right?"

"Like what?" Trunks asked furiously, failing to understand the logic being thrown at him. The genie didn't make any sense, making Trunks wonder if he had lived at such a high altitude for too long. But the confidence in what Mr. Popo said suggested that it wasn't the thin air forcing him to say things, but that he really knew what he was saying. Trunks, however, couldn't grasp what he was saying.

Mr. Popo turned away even further, making sure that Trunks couldn't see that toothless grin on his face, lest it anger him past the boundaries Mr. Popo was trying to push him. Deciding that they couldn't play this guessing game all night with Kibito Kai returning soon, he suggested, "Maybe he's realized that pride isn't everything."

He had taken a chance with these last words, certain that it would remind Trunks of why he was there that night. Though his fears weren't fully recognized, as Trunks only remembered part of it. He snarled, turning away from the old genie, sure of his senility now. He claimed that pride wasn't everything, but Trunks knew better. Pride was everything to a Saiyan, something that any other race wouldn't understand. He nearly spun around to make an argument in defense of his beliefs, but he saw that Mr. Popo had a pudgy forefinger held up to his lips.

Trunks closed his eyes and crossed his arms, swallowing his words as he sensed Kai and Namekian make their entrance in the room. Now wasn't the time to defend himself. Now was the time to allow Gohan to be healed, to be able to join him in defending their race.

He snorted to himself a little. Pride wasn't everything - bologna if he ever heard it.


	57. Water's Embrace

**Absurdly short, yes. But I hope it's still worth having written.**

The Saiyan stepped out on to the front step of the Kame House, hearing the door click shut as he relinquished the doorknob from his grasp. He released a deep breath and stood there for a few seconds, feeling lightheaded. He placed his hand to his temple, wondering just what he had done.

He had just successfully destroyed any chance with Chi-Chi that he could have hoped for.

He stumbled down the steps and over the white sand, keeping his palm to his abdomen and staining it red with Gohan's blood. But he had completely forgotten about how wet and dirty he was as he stood there, staring at the horizon. He watched the point where the thin, grey clouds seemed to meet the water's tips, as if getting along in harmony with one another to form the deep purple of the sky. The sea shimmered with the few stars out, taunting him. It begged him to jump into it, to swim away and forget all of his problems.

But Goku wasn't so easily tricked. He sat before the sea on one knee, keeping his hand on his forehead as if to prevent the strain from making his brain implode. He couldn't think at this time, a haze having been cast over his brain. All he could think of was regret for what he had just done. It had been stupid, giving in to Chi-Chi's command. He just wanted to make her happy, but it didn't seem as if she'd been happy when he had left. As he had shut that door, cracking it to a close, he had seen her, her small frame looking meeker than ever. She looked as lost as he had felt.

Goku lifted his head from his hand, staring out at the taunting sea. Its waves were so peaceful, perfect for swimming in. He resisted the temptation for a few more seconds before staggering back up to his feet, glancing back at the pink house while doing so. A blinding, yellow light was shining through the window shutters, bringing his forearm before his eyes to shield them from the intensity. He moved forward, turning around to face the sea again. He stepped into the farthest reaches of the small tides, their foaming mouths greeting him with open arms. They closed around his shoes a few times before retreating back into the main body of water, only to come out of hiding again. Goku continued following the waves with each step as their surges dragged him further and further into the water.

His boots were already water-logged from his adventure of saving his son from earlier that night, but he didn't care. He continued stepping further and further into the water, up until he was in up to his waist. His heavy training pants began pulling themselves into the sea, jerking about his legs as they mimicked the tides' movements. But he continued moving into the ocean, adjusting to the chilling temperatures of the water. He released a small chuckle through his teeth as he continued moving further into the salty water, moving until he was far enough to float with his training boots dangling above the sandy bottom.

He glanced back to the house again, determined to not let anybody trace his ki. Nobody would find him until he wanted them to. So he began swimming, moving his arms expertly before him in the same way he had as a child. Swimming just on the surface of the waves, rolling along with them, he began his journey to nowhere. As long as he swam and swam and swam, he would be able to find a place where he was welcome. Where he belonged.

* * *

The Saiyan stepped away from the water, having just circled around the lake on foot. It hadn't been a terribly interesting trek, having found nothing worth killing to make a quick meal. He should have demanded food from the Namekians to satiate his monstrous appetite, but he remembered something rather unpleasant. Those bugs didn't eat anything; they simply lived off of water, something the Saiyan Prince couldn't imagine doing.

With his arms folded, he stared with utter displeasure at the small mass of domed huts, all huddled together in what could hardly qualify as a village. He had seen insects build towns of higher standard than these supposedly intelligent creatures could manage, but he supposed that they weren't going to impress. As a peaceful people, they had no barricades, no technology worth noting at all. Their sticks they called weapons had been disappointing for the prince, having faced and taken down multitudes of stronger, better-armed peoples.

It was a shame that he couldn't just kill them all. He couldn't simply point a finger at the 'village' and obliterate them all with a single blast, in the same manner that the tyrant Frieza had managed to take out his own planet. Then he could step among the rubble and find the indestructable Dragon Balls in the mess, taking his time to destroy the worthless planet afterward. Only one of these pitiful people managed to point out a fatal flaw to his plan, one that blew that idea to smithereens. He actually needed the people's help, unless he managed to learn the Namekian language within only a few hours.

He huffed, his fist tightening into a ball. He had considered killing all of them but one, though the only flaw in that plan was that he needed the creator of the Dragon Balls lest they be inert. And seeing as the old fool Moori likely wouldn't be eager in helping the Saiyan in his quest for domination, he would have to save another Namekian from the damage, one that would listen to his demands in fear. Likely a child, if he could.

He eyed the small children, the only ones left wondering the dusty paths with a Saiyan on the loose. They all looked disgustingly similar to that one Namekian brat who had refused to heal him years ago, the coward that now claimed the title of Guardian of the Earth. No, Namekian children seemed to be as stubborn as their adult counterparts, their blasted loyalties lying just as strongly with their planet. There was no way, especially after seeing him destroy their peoples, that any one of these bugs would be willing to tell the dragon of his wishes.

It seemed hopeless. No matter what idea he hatched, they always had to lead back to keeping the blasted people alive. Biting his lip in frustration, he turned around to the murky lake once more. Those elders were certainly taking their time in deciding whether or not he was worthy of three wishes. He just wished that they would come out so he could reduce them all to cinders.

He approached the edge of the lake, leaning slightly over it to examine his reflection in its green water. It was too filthy, however, to show the clear definition of his face, making him kick at it furiously. Nothing had decided to be agreeable at this moment. His eyes followed the ripples he had created in the water, making his lips fall apart slightly as he saw a large, round reflection in the middle of the lake.

It was a moon, and a full one at that.

Vegeta licked his dried lips with anticipation, refraining from looking up into the dark sky to assure it wasn't simply an illusion. He gripped his tail triumphantly as it loosened from around his waist. He dared not look up and risk destroying his plan. He would have to save this weapon, knowing that he now had a tool of proper persuasion. The ignorant Namekians might not listen to a ki blast, but he knew that a monkey was different.

Everybody loved a monkey.


	58. Captors of Heros

**You can tell I write something if everybody and their dog passes out. I've lost count of how many this is now.**

Chi-Chi pressed her fist to her lips as she stood there. Her face had flushed, a deadly white now as she stared at the door. She remained in that position with every muscle in her body tensed. It was only her face that was relaxed, unable to contort itself into any emotion. At that moment, she felt nothing but shock.

It wasn't until Krillin stepped forward that she managed to turn her head to face him. Trying to cover up his expression of disbelief on his own face, he replaced it with one of concern. With his attempt at a comforting smile only becoming a grimace, he darted his eyes once to the door, at a loss of what to say. What had just happened? She and Goku had seemed to be getting along as usual with their normal bantering, but something had struck wrong. Goku had simply left, leaving an astounded Chi-Chi waiting.

"Listen," he finally croaked, his voice cracking from speechlessness. "Chi-Chi, I... I don't know what to say." And it was true, as he grabbed her by the forearm, noticing that she had begun swaying on her spot. He steadied her as she tried focusing her gaze on him, only to fail. Her shoulders drooped, her arms dropping limply to her side.

With her body staggering back one last time, she murmured, "I want... Gohan." Then she collapsed on the floor, Krillin letting go of her in surprise. He jumped back and gulped, part of his mind wondering why it had taken so long for her to finally faint that night. But he stooped down dutifully and picked her up, laying her down on the end of the sofa opposite of where Gohan's puddle of blood was. He propped her up awkwardly to keep her out of the mess, her arm dangling over the edge of the bed with her neck bent at an angle. But before he could reposition her so that she at least looked more comfortable, he saw Eighteen looming over him.

She had stalked around the edge of the sofa angrily. She snarled, pointing to the door, "Go get him!" With the way that Goku had just left, she knew that something was wrong. And having a moody Saiyan did nothing to appease her fears of him lashing out and potentially destroying them all in his blind anger. She couldn't believe that Krillin was still in that room, doing pointless tasks like caring for an unconscious woman. It disgusted her.

On the other hand, Krillin only looked up at her, wide-eyed. "What?" the short man asked, standing straight up to face his wife. She looked furious, and he wasn't quite sure what he had done to make her so. But he quickly received his answer as Eighteen picked him up by the front of his shirt, glaring at him.

"Go get Goku," she repeated, pointing more fiercely with her finger. "I'd rather he didn't harbor his anger and become a real threat." Krillin could only bite his bottom lip nervously with his wife hanging him half a foot off the ground, wondering why she was worried about Goku managing his anger when she could hardly manage her own. But with the scowl on his wife's face, he decided that telling her that at this time would probably not be the best decision for his health's sake. He only nodded as Eighteen lowered him back to the ground, flipping her blond hair out of her face while doing so.

Eighteen watched as Krillin scurried towards the door, looking like a misbehaved puppy. She didn't enjoy having these emotions overpower her logic every once in a while; she hadn't meant to treat Krillin so harshly. But the man could certainly be dense. She would have gone outside and looked for Goku herself, but she couldn't sense power levels, a fault design if there ever was one. She glanced down at Chi-Chi's limp body, hoping that Goku hadn't gotten too far for Krillin to detect him.

Of course, within a few minutes, Krillin had scrambled back inside, closing the door behind him. He shrugged at the look his loving wife was shooting at him, making her demand, "Well?"

"Well, I couldn't find him," he said to the android's disappointment. "I tried sensing his energy, but he's nowhere around here. I think he might have used Instant Transmission."

The andoid closed her eyes in frustration. She had forgotten about that handy, little technique, somehow, even though she had seen it in use several times just that night. With a defeated voice, she asked, "Can you locate his power level anywhere on Earth?" It would have been best if he had just teleported himself out of the galaxy somehow, but she found that to be unlikely.

To her surprise, though, Krillin furrowed his forehead in concentration. "No, I really can't sense his power level at all," he muttered, squinting his eyes as he clenched his fists. He shook his head slightly, and after a few more seconds of thought, he confirmed, "There's nothing."

Instead of the relief she had wanted at hearing such an answer, knowing that the most powerful force in the universe was not on a rampage, Eighteen couldn't help but feel suspicious. She frowned, turning her eyes from her husband to the woman on the sofa. She knew that the Instant Transmission technique needed the person to imagine just where they wanted to go, so where could Goku have gone? After a quick huff to her frustration out of her system, she whipped her blond head back around to face Krillin and asked, "Where are places that Goku would have gone?" The bite in her voice had died, replaced by something more sincere.

"There are tons of places," Krillin replied as he began counting off on his fingers. "There's Capsule Corp., Korin Tower, Mt. Paozu, Chi-Chi's house-" Eighteen startled her husband with a quick intake of air, prompting Krillin to ask, "What?"

"Chi-Chi's house," she tried explaining, gripping Krillin tightly about the arm. "You don't think that Goku would go there and try hurting her husband, do you?" The strange fear over the android's face almost scared Krillin, as it was an emotion he rarely saw her use. But now, her tone hinted it, having lightened up from that heavy, sardonic droll she usually talked in. Now her voice was shallow and weak as she pointed to the door eagerly, clutching her husband's arm. But to Krillin, the whole idea was ludicrous.

After watching his wife's wide-eyed expression for a few second's longer, or at least as wide-eyed as her eyes could get, he patted her hand and comforted her, "Listen, Eighteen, I don't think that Goku would go hunt down her husband. The Kahn guy is a nice guy - I've met him a couple of times. He's old, and I'm pretty sure that Goku knows that. There's no way that he would pick on an old guy, okay?" In the back of his mind, however, he couldn't help but think that he was an old guy, too. Life really wasn't long enough, sadly.

But Eighteen quickly snapped him out of his sentiments by pressing, "I'd feel better if we could go there to check it out. We can drop Chi-Chi off on the way, because, frankly, I don't want her here anymore."

Krillin nodded, deciding that he could humor his wife. As Eighteen let go of him, he walked across the room and whispered, "I'm going to tell Roshi where we're going." Eighteen nodded, her personality restored as she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. She stared at Chi-Chi's form on the bed, trying to figure out what they would do if Goku really was trying to kill her husband. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it would be impossible to stop a rampant Saiyan. But it would be worse if they didn't try - they could try talking some sense into him, at least.

When Krillin opened the door to Master Roshi's room, he couldn't help but stifle a laughter as he flicked the light on. There was the old man with one of the dirty magazines Krillin had gotten in trouble with earlier perched on his chest, still open from a late night's read. He approached Roshi who, oddly enough, wasn't snoring like he usually did. It wasn't until he came to the bed's side, careful not to step on Turtle, that he noticed his nose was stopped up with plugs, as were his ears. He chuckled a little, stepping away from the man again and realizing just how the Turtle Hermit managed to keep blood from spraying all over his walls whenever he read one of those magazines.

As he was backing away, though, Turtle lifted his head and blinked his eyes a few times. Lifting his flipper off of his head and turning to the short man, he asked, "Krillin?"

"Yeah, it's me," the man said, bending down to the turtle's height. With his hands on his knees, he said, "Eighteen and I are going to go to Chi-Chi's house, so if Roshi wakes up, be sure to tell him."

Turtle nodded, bobbing his head back into a deep slumber as Krillin turned the light off. Closing the door, he spun around to face Eighteen, some energy revived in his weary self. He rubbed his hands together mischievously and said, "Let's go catch some Saiyan."


	59. Confusion on the Lookout

**You could say that the punch to the head might have changed Gohan...**

The white palace glinted occasionally with the shine the stars glimmered with, a proud gleam without competition from a moon. The palace bested the lackluster, domed roofs of gold and the foliage around the Lookout, all meant to accent the incredible building. Butterflies were dormant at this time of night, resting on the variety of flowers the gardens had to offer, unsuspecting of what was happening inside. The palm fronds continued stirring with the building wind, still gentle enough to be of no concern, but a sign of impending storms below, nevertheless.

Mr. Popo turned his head upwards as he stood upright, facing the two approaching men. Dende had hurriedly followed the purple Kai into the room, the two of them looking flustered from the night's events. Trunks was still standing off to the side, being somebody that Kibito Kai was wary of, but Dende brushed past the Saiyan. He pushed past the Kai and reached the bed, standing opposite the genie as he asked, "What happened?"

His voice quavered slightly as he took note of the man's injuries, a man who had been his friend for so long. It pained him to see Gohan in such a humiliatingly painful state, with his face so horribly bashed in. It forced Dende to turn his eyes away as he locked them with the genie's, but the genie moved his gaze away quickly. Unable to meet Dende's eyes, fierce and gentle both with the same compassion, he replied, "I'm not sure, Dende. Goku only dropped him off, but I have reason to believe that the two of them fought."

Dende lifted the Saiyan's hand by his wrist, letting the finger drape gently as he muttered, "He looks like he's in so much pain." He bit his lower lip in anticipation, hoping that his healing powers would be able to work on this man. They had worked wonders before, but Gohan's face was completely disarranged. To the Namekian, it seemed as if his nose had slid up to where his cheek should have been, his bottom jaw hanging to the side.

"At least he's smiling," the genie piped up, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He glanced towards Trunks' receded figure, but the purple-haired demi-Saiyan did nothing. He only grunted slightly in acknowledgment, still thinking over what Mr. Popo had said earlier. Everything he had asaid about pride, it seemed stupid. To say that pride didn't matter made no sense - pride was probably the most important thing in the world. He couldn't think of a thing more important, but that presumptuous genie seemed to think that he knew better.

Trunks sighed, folding his arms more tightly against his chest. No, there was definitely nothing better than pride. He could only be glad that somebody had actually agreed with him that night, though, agreeing that Gohan's contorted face did seem to look rather suspiciously like a smile. By the confused look on the ignorant Kibito Kai's face, it didn't seem as if he agreed. And when Trunks decided to turn around finally, he noticed that Dende's expression didn't seem to show agreement, either.

Dende bit his teeth together, unable to imagine Gohan's terrible expression to be anything short of horror. There was no happiness in that pained face, so hearing the hopeful words from the genie's mouth seemed almost morbid to him. He grimaced slightly as he shrugged off the genie's words of him actually seeming happy, unable to imagine that perfect grin of Gohan's on such a tortured face.

He clasped the victim's hand within his own, and as everybody watched, small sparkles seemed to emanate from the Namekian's hand, transferring to Gohan's pale skin. Mr. Popo watched, as astounded as ever by this technique, as the components of Gohan's face seemed to shift back together. A newly mended nose found its place back in the center as the dramatic swelling of his cheeks died down. His jaw hinged itself back into place as a few of his crooked teeth stood up on their roots once more. And Dende was surprise that, under all of this, a placent smile was revealed on his healed face. He was certainly the same Gohan he had remembered, ever since their time on Namek, deeply relieving him. Kibito Kai shouted with joy, and even Trunks couldn't help but have a small smirk find itself on his face. He certainly did look like Gohan again.

It wasn't for a few seconds until Gohan's face slipped into a more serious position, a frown forming at its familiar creases as he furrowed his eyebrows, as if in thought. Then he sprang up, still seated on the bed as he blinked his eyes warily, the bright light befuddling his senses. He raised his arm up to his eyes as protection, only bringing them back down after he was certain that the imaginary spots of lights would disappear. And when he lowered his forearm, he was caught by complete surprise.

To his right was Mr. Popo, grinning a disconcerting, almost toothless smile. To his left was Dende, hovering as if anxious, thought the expression of happiness seemed to counter his discomfort. Behind Dende was an odder sight, which was the Supreme Kai jumping up and down in the air victoriously, not sparing a glance to the demi-Saiyan in his celebration. And an even stranger sight to behold was Trunks lurking some ways away, his face hiding underneath the strands of hair escaped from his ponytail.

Forgetting everything else, Gohan leaned forward and asked unsteadily, "Trunks?" He blinked a few times as if to assure that the man wasn't simply an illusion, but he was relieved each time he saw him still standing there, his hands in his pockets.

It was incredible, seeing his fellow demi-Saiyan just standing there, looking terribly familiar to him. It shocked him, knowing that he hadn't seen this man in years. But he quickly realized that, as he turned around to face the fixed-up Gohan, that this was his future counterpart. This Trunks, was the same man he had been two decades ago. It almost knocked the newly rejuvenated breath out of Gohan, just as he sat there in awe, unable to absorb the sight as the familiar man replied quietly, "Yeah, it's me."

With a force he hadn't used in years, Gohan sprang out of the bed, leaping across the room and tackling the unsuspecting Trunks to the ground. Everybody else just watched with complete shock as the older man began shaking the younger man by the shoulders, demanding, "Where have you been?"

Trunks quickly pushed Gohan off of him, and instead of laughing like he wished he could have, he could only manage a sneer of both disgust and amusement. "What are you doing?" he asked, letting out an incredulous scoff at the end. This wasn't the same Gohan he had remembered. Gohan had grown to be cold and lonesome, especially in those few months after Goku had left. What had happened?

"I'm just... It's great to see you!" Gohan exclaimed, unable to believe that the man laying before him was actually laying before him. It was incredible, to see this man from his past. He looked almost exactly identical to that Trunks he had known so long ago, when he was just a boy. Those had been the days, ones that were filled with joy and happiness. And now he had a living memory before him, reminding him of how life used to be. "Trunks!" A certain joy had been rekindled in him, knowing that this man, a symbol of hopes and dreams, had come back. He had come back.

Trunks shuffled away as Gohan stood up on his knees, such a purity radiating from him that it made him feel uncomfortable. There was something odd about the way that Gohan was acting now, as if there was something he had never seen in him before. Feeling uneasy with the proximity between the two, he asked, "What are you talking about?" There was something odd in the way that Gohan was talking, as if they had been great friends before. As far as he had remembered, they hadn't been close at all. Sure, Gohan had occasionally taken care of him as a kid, but they didn't do much together. It was usually he and Goten that gotten along, only making Trunks wonder just what was happening.

Gohan gulped as his euphoria abandoned him, leaving him kneeling. Now he felt like a fool. Trunks should have been returning his joy, rushing forward with their reunion after decades, exclaiming how tall he had gotten. But this Trunks did none of that, quickly knocking Gohan down his ladder of triumph as he realize his mistake.

This wasn't Future Trunks.

Gohan's mouth was left ajar as he stared at the revolted man staring back, pushing his purple bangs out of his face. The twisted scowl on his face was terribly unfamiliar, making Gohan lick his chapped lips nervously.

No, this definitely wasn't Future Trunks.

With a small, apologetic grimace, Gohan rose to his feet again, extending his hand to help the other man up. But Trunks ignored his offer of help, pushing himself on the ground and glaring at the offender suspiciously. Something was definitely wrong with the way Gohan was acting, because, just as quickly as he had been cheery, he had fallen back into a sullen mood, as if having realized something.

The air was stagnant, now, in the Lookout. None of the spectators of this interesting meeting could speak from shock, allowing Gohan to eventually say, "Sorry, I thought..." With a bit of reluctance, "I thought you were somebody else."

He felt his expression slide in disappointment as he looked the man over, realizing that to think this was Future Trunks was completely unreasonable. If that same Trunks he knew had decided to come back from the future, he would have been an aging man, not one in the prime of his youthful days as an adult. No, this was Present-Day Trunks, the bratty boy that he knew remembered. He had never managed to form a bond with this one, seeing the age difference. By the time he was old enough to really enjoy the company of, Gohan was already married and moved out of the house.

But Trunks wasn't so accepting, assuming a fighting stance as he snarled, "What do you mean by that?" As far as he knew, there was nobody else that looked like him. He was the only man with purple hair, the only one who looked eerily similar to his father as far as his face went. And with his eyebrows fixed angrily on his face, he only looked more like his Saiyan father.

Gohan held his hands up in peace, replying, "Nothing." But that didn't seem to assuage Trunks' suspicions, forcing him to cross his arms and sigh, "I thought you were your future counterpart. I haven't seen him in years, and I was excited that he was here. That's all."

Trunks gritted his teeth disbelievingly at this explanation. Gohan was more excited about his future self than his real self? He held his fist up threateningly, asking, "What do you mean? We haven't seen each other in years, and you're not excited about me?" But before Gohan could correct the mistake he made, Trunks' anger was already boiling over as he said sourly, "Everybody likes my future counterpart more than me! So what if I managed to help destroy Buu? Who cares? He actually killed Frieza, and with only a few sword strokes, right? Well, read my lips, Gohan." With great emphasis on each word, he said, "Swords. Are. Stupid."

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Gohan tried saying with an anxious chuckle, surprised by how the demi-Saiyan was handling his words. Something was wrong with Trunks now. Though they were technically the same person, this one seemed to be overprotective and eager to fight. He gulped slightly as Trunks approached him, but Mr. Popo finally seemed to snap out of his stupor.

"Trunks!" the genie's clear voice called, interrupting the tension of the coming fight. He stood upright, folding the bloodied bed sheet into a ball as he did so. With it wrapped around his black hand, he looked up to see the two demi-Saiyans curiously looking towards him. Then, with a mysterious laugh, he said, "Look at Gohan. He's happy now. Why aren't you?"

The purple-haired man bared his teeth, unable to believe that Mr. Popo would say something like that at this time. He changed his target from the black-haired man to the black-skinned genie, his arms held before him menacingly. But Mr. Popo only watched with his slight smile, not showing any fear, even as the angry man grabbed him by the front of his vest, holding him above the floor. Trunks demanded, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that he's happy," the genie said, pointing to Gohan. "See?"

And with that, Trunks lowered the genie and turned around to see Gohan standing there. He had a quizzical expression, but it certainly didn't display his usual sullen manner. There was something about the man's disposition, now, that caught Trunks off-guard. Instead of having that drastic frown on his face, so noticeable that even small children had taken to avoiding him on the rare occasion he left the house or the school, he had an odd frown. It didn't seem as scary now, only concerned. Trunks dropped Mr. Popo and stalked towards Gohan, asking fiercely, "Why are you happy?"


	60. Forgotten One

**I must warn that Goku doesn't really fit into the timeline for the next few chapters, for which I apologize. I'll try fitting him back in as soon as possible, but I can't make any promises. Oh, and I must thank all of you readers again!  
**

Krillin hoisted Chi-Chi into his arms, bristling his thick moustache in the process. He really did need to go back to training occasionally - either he had been losing some strength, or Chi-Chi had been enjoying the good life a little bit too much. But either way, he grunted as she picked her up in his arms, a small smile coming over the short man's face. He wished that he could comfort the poor, unconscious woman. Though she seemed to not believe it, he knew that everything would be fine.

There was no way that Goku was actually at the Kahn mansion. That was simply Eighteen being paranoid, but he didn't feel like quarreling with his wife at this time. No, they would go to Chi-Chi's house, drop the woman off, and return. And they would come back with proof that he was right about Goku not being some raving madman, something he could stick into his wife's face the next time she told him he couldn't cook pancakes for his life.

Eighteen already had the door open, leaning against it and examining her manicured nails. Her eyes trailed on her husband as he brushed past her, stepping into the dark night. Then, with a last glance around the living room, Eighteen closed the front door. She saw Krillin already having stumbled his way through the sand, standing right in the middle of the beach. She cocked her head a little, wondering why her husband didn't start flying off to their destination. "Is something wrong?" she inquired in an indifferent tone.

"I feel like we're forgetting something," the short man muttered, turning back to look at the house. Eighteen had left the lights on, but it seemed as if there was something larger that they were forgetting to do. Or maybe it was something they were abandoning, having let it slip their minds. He furrowed his forehead as his eyes swept over the house, though there was nothing he could think of that they had left.

"I think you're delusional," the android replied, taking off into the air and leaving a cloud of sand in her wake. She smirked down at her slight husband, seeing him finally shrug his shoulders and follow her through the air. "It's nothing, I'm sure."

"You're right, Eighteen," he replied, a smile plastered on his face as his black hair whipped behind him, flying for the first time in several weeks. His back ached a little, but it wasn't worth complaining about when he was flying with his wife, somebody else's wife in his arms. He glanced down at the pale Chi-Chi in his arms, the joy on his face dying away as his expression became serious. He hoped that Eighteen wasn't right about Goku being at the Kahn mansion, because things could certainly go wrong.

He let his worries fall behind, though, and took to enjoying the night. The stars were shining hazily through the low cloud cover, and he was here, almost alone, with his wife. He completely forgot that they might have been leaving something, or somebody, behind.

* * *

Propped up in Eighteen's reading chair so that his elbow was resting comfortably on the armrest, Goten planted his cheek into his fist. He tugged away at his bottom lip with his teeth, watching the two women laying side-by-side on the large bed pushed to the side of the room. He glanced down to his watch and noticed that it was just past eleven o'clock. He let out an impatient sigh and considered going downstairs, his curiosity pulling at him. Everything had become so silent, and he had heard the door shut a few times, but he decided that he would wait. He would exercise the patience he had learned as a martial arts instructor, often forced to put up with the most incompetent of students.

He decided that he would use some of his own advice and crossed his legs in that seat, assuming a meditative position. He closed his eyes and laid his hands in his lap as he concentrated, pondering over the events of that night. So much had happened in so little time, it was astonishing. He hadn't felt this excited since the time Buu was around, terrorizing the world. Now that he thought about it, his life had been fairly uneventful since his childhood, something he regretted. He had always wanted to do something great, to aspire to his father's standards, but nothing seemed to have fallen in place.

Now he was simply a martial arts teacher. Life seemed to have passed so quickly before him, training with his father after Buu. Then, after his father left, he began trying to pick up his own style. But before he could get past his foundations, search beyond his roots, he met Valese. It was only half a year later that Goten dropped from school and married his wife.

He never regretted dropping out of school. He could never compare to his brother as far as brains went, so he decided that martial arts would be the next way to go. But as a husband, he found less time for himself to master new techniques. He went unemployed for a few months, Valese completely oblivious to their impoverished state, before he decided he would do something about it. And, with a little contribution from the Briefs family, he had gotten enough money to start the dojo.

The business had been unsuccessful at first, but he managed to spread his name in various ways, namely by beating all of his competitors with such ease. Then the parents began flocking to him, eager for their children to learn from the best. Of course, Goten wasn't a very good teacher. Most of his strength came from the natural fighting talent in a Saiyan, and so he usually just sent kids home after lessons with a strict training regimen and a reminder to keep up with meditation. He wasn't sure of what meditation was for, exactly, but he remembered Gohan teaching him all about it when training. That had been back when they had all been kids and things didn't seem as complicated.

Goten blinked his eyes open as he heard Marron grunt in her sleep, flopping around on the bed next to the peaceful Valese. He smirked slightly as he watched the two. Krillin had tried nudging him towards his blond daughter all of his life, and for a while, Goten thought that he would eventually marry the petite girl. She had only been a few years younger than him, but then he met somebody closer to his age. After his father was gone and unable to push him to spar so often, Goten began socializing more, realizing that he was considered to be charismatic. That was when he met Valese and managed to break Krillin's hopes, though Marron had never seemed to mind. She never cared about anything, something that Goten found odd. In some ways, she was sensitive like her father, though in other ways, she was completely cold like her mother. It was a combination that couldn't be explained.

He stood up from the chair and walked over to the bed, his eyes lilting downward at his wife's fuller frame. He ruffled his black hair up with a scratch to the back of his head as he stood there, turning his gaze on the window across the room. It was a good sized window, one that showed the ocean. He approached it, looking down at the sand before he looked at the sky. There were two figures that seemed to be retreating from the Kame House, but he supposed they were just birds.

He lingered by the window a few moments longer, resting his hand on the windowsill as he looked out to the sky. There was something missing, he knew. He wasn't sure of what it was, but above those low-lying clouds, there was something that belonged. He remembered that he'd learned something about it in school, but that had been very brief. He couldn't remember the name of it for his life, though he did recall that it was something large and round, something far larger in the sky than the tiny, twinkling stars. He stared as the birds disappeared, fading through the cloud layer, up where that thing belonged. That big, round, white thing that changed shape in the sky...

With a last sigh, he decided that he would go downstairs. It had been quiet for too long, and if he knew his mother, she would still be screaming at the top of her lungs. But, no. She had reserved her lung capacity for her son, it seemed, to tell him to go back to his room. Nearly twenty-six years old and still being told to go to his room - it would almost be shameful had it been any mother to command him. But his mom was different, he knew. That was one woman he didn't mind bossing him around.

He walked across the room again, past the small bed his assumed was Marron's and the larger bed he assumed was Eighteen and Krillin's. He opened the door a crack, surprised to still hear nothing, before pulling it open all the way. There was still nothing. He walked out into the tiny hallway and down the stairs, still hearing nothing. It was strange.

Then he got far enough down the stairs to see that the living room was vacant. His mother had disappeared, his father had vanished, and Eighteen and Krillin were simply gone. His eyes widened as he surveyed the room, trying to look for signs of a struggle. But, it seemed as if everybody had left peacefully.

The first energy he tried sensing was his mother's, though that proved impossible. He hoped that her energy was just so weak that he couldn't sense it; if anything had happened to her while he was just upstairs, he would make the person responsible pay. Then, with his fists clenching subconsciously, he tried sensing his father's energy. But, again, there was nothing there. There wasn't even a weak beat, worrying him even further. He decided he would try Krillin and then Eighteen's, relieved when he was able to sense their energies. They seemed to be traveling in the direction of North City, presumably to drop his mother off at her house.

Then the only matter to deal with was his father.

He sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and taking the same meditative position he had upstairs. With his eyes closed in concentration, he tried focusing in on his father's energy, yet to no avail. He grimaced, only able to think about how meditation was pointless in the end. So he stood back up, ready to go after Eighteen and Krillin to assure that they had his mother with them, when he heard a slight cough at the top of the stairs.

Marron was looking rather dizzy up there as she tumbled down, a bit clueless as to what had happened. Goten then remembered that he had a wife to tend to, and he couldn't just leave her alone on this island. He stared at Marron as she ungracefully stopped at the bottom of the stairs, wobbling a bit due to her fatigue. Sometimes Goten couldn't help but worry for the woman - she almost seemed more helpless than his own wife, but she was Krillin's daughter. So he walked up to her and steadied her by her hands, asking, "Do you mind if I take Valese back home? Are you fine here by yourself?"

She pulled a hand away from Goten's and brought it to her face to yawn, "I'm fine." She blinked wearily a few times, explaining, "I'm not all alone. Master Roshi and Turtle are still here."

That, Goten thought, was probably worse than being on the island alone. Still, he nodded and said, "Thanks." Then he let go of her hands, her frame now standing steadily on the floor as he whipped past her and back up the stairs.

He would get Valese and bring her back to their house, deciding that this expedition would be too much for the pregnant woman. Then he would head wherever Krillin and Eighteen were to assure that they were just bringing his mom home, and finally, he could go home and sleep. He just couldn't believe that he had been forgotten.


	61. The Mystery of Happiness

**This is definitely a calmer part of the story, as if it's getting to the close of an act. There are some loose ends to be tied up before I can progress the story, unfortunately, but I hope that it's worth a little wait. And thanks for the reviews!**

**Oh, and on a random side note, I decided to change my avatar! Ha ha, now on with the story.  
**

Gohan shrunk back at the ferocity Trunks' eyes displayed. The man's anger was rekindled after a few words from the genie, somehow pushing him verbally. He wasn't certain of what his own happiness had anything to do with Trunks, but the genie's words had certainly been a way to have Trunks defensively up in his face, a foreign snarl on his face. Before Gohan could contemplate any further on the mystery behind Mr. Popo's questions, however, Trunks was upon him, his hand clutched powerfully on his shoulder. And Trunks repeated, "Why are you happy?"

Only able to release a slight, nervous chuckle at how serious Trunks was, Gohan considered that question. It was a good one, no matter how strange it was. It forced him to think deeper, to think of whether he really was happy or not. He certainly did feel strange after waking up, as if the punch to his head had cleared a few matters up in his mind. And there was no hatred towards his father for that righteous blow, no resentment for being humiliated so easily before a man that he hadn't seen in eight years. No, not even as he thought over that anger from his failed Kamehameha attempts could he conjure up that same anger on the spot. But could he really stretch that to say that his lack of anger was happiness?

He placed a finger to his lip in thought as he glanced from the large hand on his shoulder to the offender's face, a desperate gleam in the man's blue eyes. He finally stuttered, "I-I don't know," his usual confidence gone. It had been a long time since he didn't have an answer to a question right away, but with this one, he would have to think over it.

There was something different about him, he knew, between now and before his father had delivered that fatal blow to his head. When he woke up and saw Trunks, an odd feeling has washed over him. It felt as if a piece of his old life had returned, believing that Future Trunks was standing in that same room with him. That man symbolized a time in which the goal was simple: all of the good guys were to defeat the bad guys. It had seemed simple, though as a twelve-year-old pitted against Cell, it had seemed fairly complex. However, as he looked back now, the lines were, for the most part, clearly defined. There had been the good guys, and there had been the bad guys. There had been no in-between, except for perhaps on the parts of Vegeta and Android Eighteen. But now he struggled to see that line. Over the past eight years, an odd thought had cultured in his mind, one that he regretted now. Could his father be the bad guy? He had certainly impacted everybody's lives in negative ways, though he was supposed to be the savior of the universe. His father, protector of worldly balance, had succeeded in ruining numerous lives.

Now, after having been knocked out, Gohan realized that there was no way that his father could be the bad guy. His intentions were too pure to be those of a villain. During that last fight, when Gohan had been throwing everything at his father, having each attack intercepted, he realized that even his father's ridicules were for good reason. Gohan had been growing overconfident, and he needed humility to push himself back down to the level he was truly at, not his over-inflated ego. He had lately been thinking along the lines of Vegeta, something he realized may have been because he was secluding himself, escaping others' words of comfort, just as the Saiyan Prince had done so long ago. But that didn't matter. This wasn't a matter of pride as much as it was a matter of loyalties.

He had lost that unrelenting trust he had had in his father years ago as a child. Whenever his father had said something, he had always listened. But the doubts forming in his mind lately had clouded his sight, allowing him only to see the evils in his father's actions. But his father wasn't evil. His training with Uub had been years of good intention, he was sure. Those years had been spent training for the good of the galaxy, years spent more selflessly than Gohan could hope to. Gohan, yes, had kept his promise to always stay with his family, but the more he looked at it, the more he realized he had been neglecting them. And though his father also neglected his family, at least he did so in style. Gohan had only managed to hide away in his room, selfishly keeping to himself.

The anger he had harnessed over these past years was dangerous. There were times in which he had exploded on Videl, thankful that she could handle herself, and even Pan on rare occasion. He needed to go back home, to apologize. It had been eight years and one blow to the head to late, but he hoped that they would still accept him as he had once been. He had blamed the latest failures in his marriage and duties as a parent on his father, but he realized now that there was nobody else to blame but himself.

Gohan sighed, snapping himself out of his thoughts to see that everybody was staring at him in bewilderment. He had evidently been pacing back and forth across the room, too absorbed by his own mind to notice that he had been mumbling to himself. True signs of a crazy genius. Even Trunks had relinquished his grip on his shoulder, a mixture of disgust and confusion on his face. And Gohan couldn't help but stifle a small chuckle as he saw the expressions on the rest of their faces, all grossly similar to Trunks'.

"Are... are you okay?" Kibito Kai ventured hesitantly, his head cocked to the side. He wondered exactly what had happened to Gohan during these years after Buu - he certainly seemed to have let himself go. The Supreme Kai couldn't help but think that something was mentally wrong with the man, something he could very well be right about. But Gohan only smiled more broadly, his thoughts put at ease as his eyes trailed down to his shoes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Gohan replied, running his hand over the top of his head. He felt a certain skepticism in his heart that he hadn't felt since he had been just a teenager, still trying to find his place in life. He had outgrown this awkward shyness, but here he was, the great and powerful Gohan, unable to face his friends. He clenched his teeth together as his eyes drifted back up to Trunks, who still had his arms dropped to his side, slightly revolted by the man's quirkiness. It was finally that Gohan said, "I'm going home."

The sudden authority he felt in his voice relieved him, glad that he hadn't been humbled enough by his father to lose all confidence in himself. Mr. Popo darted his eyes knowingly towards Trunks, who was holding himself defensively. "You never answered my question," the purple-haired Saiyan said while furling his hands into balls.

Gohan smirked slightly, his fear of the younger demi-Saiyan fading away at once. He crossed his arms and looked to the ceiling in thought, donning an ambivalent expression so like his own father's. It was then that a rush of certainty flowed through him as he stated, "I definitely am happy." The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was at least happier than he had been before. He could think clearly, at the very least, recognizing that these past few years had been a waste. It didn't matter how man awards he had won scholastically; there were things more important, things that he had been ignoring lately. But now was the time to reach forth, to take advantage of his opportunities. Now was the time to get his family back.

Trunks waited expectantly for him to continue, not satisfied with that small proclamation. But to his disappointment, Gohan looked back at him, shaking his head knowingly. "I'm not sure why I'm happy, I just am."

"Do you even remember anything?" Trunks asked, unimpressed. Surely, if Gohan had remembered it had been his father to injure him as they all assumed, he wouldn't be so happy. "Your father hurt you, and you could have died because of him." That was certainly a stretch, seeing as they had Dende here to prevent anything from becoming too serious, but it was a point nevertheless. "Are you so sure you're happy about that?"

"I remember that," Gohan said, only making the frown on the purple-haired man's face more pronounced. He huffed a little, not knowing how to tell Trunks of exactly what had happened to him as a person. He put his weight on one foot, looking towards Dende for help, but the Namekian had nothing. Finally, he said, "I can't explain why I'm happy, Trunks. After getting hit in the head... it's just something that you have to experience for yourself."

Trunks still wasn't satisfied, casting a curious look at the older man as he established once more, "I'm going home now. Thanks, Dende, for healing me." He nodded to everybody once before hovering over the ground and making his exit, knowing that he needed to go back home. He could feel Videl's ki as being very weak, and he knew that he had business there to still be tended to.

The purple-haired man watched as Gohan's figure glided out the door. He placed a hand to his waist as he turned back around to the others, all shocked to see such a look of confusion on his face. But Kibito Kai was also rather befuddled by Gohan's parting words, and he spoke up, asking exactly what was on the Trunks' calculating mind, "Is it just me, or did it sound like Gohan said Trunks needs to experience getting hit on the head?"


	62. Strength Behind Anger

**This is a bit different from most of my other chapters, but I hope you enjoy Piccolo in the big city!**

Piccolo scoured West City with a fury. He hovered low over the buildings, dodging the taller skyscrapers and occasionally diving to the street level. He sensed a familiar power level, though he couldn't decide whose it was. It was weak, but there was something that aroused his suspicions, forcing him to make this small detour before heading to Capsule Corporation. It felt like a Saiyan's power.

A sprinkle, quickly becoming a full-blown storm, had begun by the time he stopped by a small corner-side cafe. He bared his teeth as he stared at a blinking, neon sign of a coffee cup, holding back all of his will-power to destroy the thing. The bright, flashing green light it displayed disturbed his sensitive Namekian eyes, but he didn't want to start trouble by blowing it up with a simply ki blast. He was here to stop trouble, not start it.

He pushed the glass door open to the cafe forcefully, sweeping his slightly damp cape across the linoleum tile of the floor. He immediately scanned the area with his eyes, looking for the one power level, so much higher than an average human's but still not much of a threat. He could only wonder if it was Goku hiding in here, trying to mask his enormous energy level but failing to bring it all the way down. To his disappointment, though, as his eyes roamed the area, he quickly realized that Goku wasn't there. He did, however, receive another surprise.

Sitting at a booth with his back turned to him was a woman with distinctive blue hair, sipping at a cup of some disgusting, brown, liquid substance. He recognized the power level as coming from her, which he found to be strange. It wasn't until then that he remembered that he knew somebody with hair that color and a small figure, though that didn't make any sense, either.

Was this Bulma?

He shook the notion off, knowing that it would be ridiculous. This person, whoever she was, had the power of a Saiyan. As far as he could tell, power levels didn't just rub off onto others. Bulma couldn't have simply acquired the power of a Saiyan by being around Vegeta for a good portion of her life, especially since he had been absent for eight years. But if not Bulma, who could this woman with blue hair be? It seemed odd to him, a puzzlement even for the clever Namekian. There were no other Saiyans alive, save for Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, Trunks, and Goten. The Saiyan race couldn't be further tainted, could it? And if not, was this another Saiyan they had never known about, this one being a Saiyan woman?

"Hey, Mister," a worker standing behind the counter called, handing a cup of coffee off to a customer. "Don't just stand in the doorway. You're letting all the rain in."

Piccolo growled a little but complied, stepping in completely as he shut the small, glass door. He glared at the man behind the counter, making him gulp in fear at the strange, green man, before he marched forth. His steps were quiet as he approached the blue-haired woman, ready to interrogate her. But, even stealthy as he had been, she spun around when he was only a few feet away.

This was Bulma's daughter, he realized as he saw the searching eyes so like her mother's, the same upturned nose. Her mother's face was more defined, though there was no doubting the resemblance between the two. Piccolo couldn't help but scowl a little, remembering his loathing for that woman. There had been a reason why Piccolo avoided her and her kin at the few company parties he attended. As intelligent as she may have been, her supercilious attitude irritated the Namekian. She acted as if she owned the world, unable to shut her mouth. There were times in which talking was necessary, the Namekian knew, but that didn't include every moment of the day.

Bulla's expression showed astonishment, first at seeing Piccolo, the distant, green alien, for the first time in months, and secondly, for seeing him in a local cafe, of all places. Her search for Yamcha had been what led her to this cafe, though she wasn't sure of why Piccolo would come here. She'd been looking for her step-father for over an hour to no avail, considering heading back home. But as she passed by this small joint, she decided that she would stop here and refuel. She had ordered a cup of hot chocolate, it being too late for her to drink coffee, and also picked out some strange chocolate-filled pastry that had looked good. She had quickly scarfed it down, and she had just been finishing up her drink when she had sensed an enormous energy sneak up behind her. She was astonished when she turned around, only to come face-to-face with the scary Namekian.

Her face softened slightly as she noticed he also had a grimace of surprise on his own face. She felt the muscles in her face twitch nervously, though, as he demanded in a low voice, "Where's Goku?"

Under his harsh glare, she could only sag her shoulders slightly, wondering just what he was talking about. She didn't even disregard his lack of a greeting as she muttered, "Goku?" She knew that she had heard that name earlier today, but she couldn't remember just what from. All at once, though, she remembered her small talk with Yamcha earlier that night. "Oh, Goku!" she exclaimed quietly, resting her elbows on the top of the booth. She rested her cheek in her palm in thought, musing, "No, I haven't seen him..."

"He's not at your house, is he?" the Namekian inquired, figuring that he would be able to tell if she was lying or not. And he accepted her response as she shook her head, her eyes scrutinizing his face curiously. That, at least, saved him a trip to the Capsule Corporation building. He gritted his teeth together, pulling his cape along with him as he turned around, muttering, "Figures."

"Where are you going?" Bulla asked, grabbing her disposable cup of hot chocolate as she scrambled out of the booth and on to her feet.

Piccolo, with great brevity, stopped his procession to the door to say, "I'm going to go find him." Then he continued, though he found it impossible to keep the small woman away from him.

"Can I come with you?" she asked, eager to meet this Saiyan. She had always wanted to meet a Saiyan, to see what was so different between them and humans. Pride, yes, but what else? However, Piccolo didn't seem so willing to give into her request, as he simply snorted.

"No," he replied calmly as he continued striding towards the door.

But there was no shaking her off now as she leapt in front of him, throwing her used cup in to the trash can as she did so. She stood in front of him, her hand's on her hips in a position so like her mother's. She shook her blue hair out of her face with a brush of her hand, placing it back on her hip and looking up at the towering Namekian. She hadn't been raised to be afraid, having faced monsters like him before, though she had been raised to be stubborn. She couldn't help it, however, as her palms became sweaty, noticing the height difference between the two now that she was standing. It felt as if he was twice as tall she was.

Her mother had told her to never show her fear, though, so she used her most convincing snarl to say, "You're taking me with you. I have to meet Goku, because I've never met a Saiyan before." Her father would have to wait. This was her life on the line, perhaps her only chance to learn about her heritage.

Piccolo snorted, unable to hide a small smirk on his face. The sudden swing from innocence to obstinacy was amusing, but he still had no time to play such childish games. He pushed her aside to her annoyance, passing the tiny woman in her rubber rain boots. But she was too determined to simply let him pass. She ran in front of him and barricaded the door, insisting, "Promise me that you'll take me with you!"

"Move."

Bulla stood her ground, refusing to give into the Namekian's demand. Her rubber boots squelched on the wet floor of the cafe, knocking her off of her balance, but she quickly regained it. She flipped more of that blue hair out of her face, saying, "No."

Irritated now by her persistence, he grabbed her by the arm, tossing her to the side with the assurance she wouldn't get hurt with the Saiyan blood in her. He didn't have time to mess around with her games, knowing that Goku could be on the move at that moment. Some of the customers in the cafe gasped in horror at the treatment of the girl, but he simply ignored them, opening the door and disappearing into the increasing downpour.

An older woman rushed to the aid of Bulla, having been tossed with ease into a small, round table, but she quickly got to her feet and brushed herself off. She pushed the woman out of her way with a tiny word of thanks,running to the door. However, as she latched on to it, she felt her boots give way to the slippery floor, knocking her off of her feet. She quickly recovered, standing back up on her sore legs and hurrying out of the cafe. She ran into the intensified rain, much heavier than it had been just minutes ago, and looked around her, unable to locate the tall man.

She looked up to the sky, her hand over her eyes to shield them from the rain. And with a strike of lightning lining the sky, brightening its grey clouds with a yellow flash, she saw a figure fading away, a white cape waving behind it in the distance. She clenched her hands and gritted her teeth, giving a stomp of frustration to the pavement beneath her. She needed to learn how to fly. Once she found Yamcha, she would force him to teach her how to fly. And as she stormed off, heading back to the house with the weather too difficult to continue her search, she didn't realize that she had left quite a dent in the place in the sidewalk her boot had come down on in anger.

* * *

Vegeta slammed his boot down on the soft dirt in anger. He had had enough of this waiting. It was ridiculous. He had been waiting for hours, just for them to reach a consensus. He wondered if those old bags had fallen asleep on the job, sitting around the table as if they were in the midst of doing something unimportant like playing some stupid Earth game, like that thing called poker. That was one thing that had always brought him back down to the pitiful human level on Earth, not good at the game at all. He remembered that they had stopped playing it after he disintegrated the table they were gathered around after losing most of his money to that blasted Yamcha fellow. Blasted Earthlings - if they spent half as much time training as they did playing pointless games, they might have gotten somewhere with their lousy race.

He was through with waiting. He resisted looking directly at the moon and destroying them all immediately, knowing that he couldn't do that until he got his wish. And that would be used merely as a technique of persuasion. If they approved of his wishes, then he would let them live, being the fair man that he was. But if they had any problem with them, he would let himself assume his most powerful form, destroying all of them, one-by-one, satisfied with the knowledge that they had deserved such an end.

He itched the blue sleeve of his Saiyan uniform as he considered marching in there and telling them time was up. The Namekians certainly did know how to aggravate him, able to poke at his flaw of impatience. They acted as if they had all the time in the day to act, having not much else to live for. This was a worthless race, and even if they did agree to his wishes, he considered obliterating them all.

It was then, as he turned to the village, that he saw one of the younger Namekians, a tall and lanky boy, leave the hut they had all congregated in. He placed his hand on his hip as the boy approached him, hoping that whatever he had to deliver was good news. If it wasn't, he knew that this young Namekian would be the first of many to die at his wrath.


	63. One Wish to Be

**Vegeta's becoming more important as Goku's fading out, though I hope the exchange is worth it, or at least for the next few chapters. Trust me - we'll be getting back to Goku as soon as possible.**

Cargo couldn't help but regret having spoken out earlier. It was because of his little outburst, one to assure that this Saiyan wouldn't destroy their planet, that he was being sent out to summon the murderer to return to the confines of their tiny village. All because he had to open his mouth, telling him that they could grant any of his heart's desires. He had dealt with this type before, having been killed during Frieza's siege of their old planet, and he knew that to resist was to die. But the Grand Elder seemed to disagree - he had been the one, in fact, to suggest this punishment for the poor, misguided Namekian.

So much for trying to help his planet.

The Namekian ambled along the little dirt pathway, seeing the Saiyan, Vegeta, standing just a little ways away. He was staring at him, though with the dead look in his dark eyes, Cargo imagined it as being more of a glare. There was something about the way that his eyebrows were furrowed in rage that could only have Cargo raise his hand unsteadily as he approached the man, greeting, "Hello!" He tried using the cheeriest tone he could muster, but with that look of repulsion being shot at him, he couldn't help but flag his hand back down.

"Any news?" the Saiyan sneered, his arms crossed impatiently as his tail gave a small way before wrapping around his waist again. He certainly didn't look happy, and it hadn't been until Cargo had stepped outside that he had realized just how much time had passed. The sun had set, and as he glanced up to the sky, he noticed that the moon was nigh. It was a large, round one, too, that night, forcing a small smile out of the Namekian. He had never grown up with a moon, but he had fallen in love with this one. His time on Earth had been his time to get over his fear of the dark, so by the time his whole population had relocated to this planet, they only had to enjoy the moon's soft, guiding glow in the night.

But he was quickly snapped out of his sentiments as the Saiyan Prince asked angrily, "Did you hear me?"

He jerked his head from the sky back to the man with a furry tail, really taking notice of it for the first time. He had never known Vegeta to have a tail before, something that shocked him. But as his eyes darted up to that face crumpled with rage, he quickly stuttered, "S-sorry. Yes, we do have news, but I need you to follow me."

"Any good news?" the Saiyan corrected himself, not budging as he awaited a more appropriate response. He wouldn't move until he found out whether or not these people were to grant his wishes or not. If not, he would have to go find his space pod to get off of this rubbish heap before he destroyed it.

Cargo, however, wasn't sure of whether he was supposed to relay any information to the Saiyan, so he simply said, "Just follow me. I was just sent out here to retrieve you while the elders go get their Dragon Balls." He immediately cringed, however, at what he said. He had definitely said too much, something he could tell as Vegeta smirked, deciding to follow the Namekian.

But something about that answer bothered Vegeta. How had a group of Namekians managed to escape under his eye? He supposed that it had been during his walk around the lake, though that seemed to be too long ago. No, there was a certain magic these bugs possessed that only made Vegeta want to crush them even more. Though unlikely, given their soft-hearted natures, they were a potential threat, possibly forming an uprising against the Saiyan. He doubted they would be able to do much to him, the moon being another precaution. There was nothing quite like the safety of the moon to guide him through the night, and it pained him to not look up at it. But it was not the appropriate time, he knew.

Their short procession to the huts was quiet, no Namekians outside in the dark. Vegeta stopped directly behind Cargo as he pushed the door open tentatively, vaguely wondering if this was that same Namekian who had actually stood up for him earlier. They all looked the same to him, such a simple people as far as reproduction went, all essentially clones of each other. Even those Earthling humans were more complex than this lot, compatible with Saiyans in breeding.

He gritted his teeth, unwilling to think on that subject. He didn't care if he had two children or two hundred children on that planet - they weren't his children. No, he would bear only a full-fledged Saiyan, not some mutt. Just thinking over those things, that boy and that girl... He couldn't believe that he had gone through that all a second time with that blue-haired woman. He regretted that mistake, having been influenced by her words somehow. Probably a witch, now that he thought about it, a witch that had cast a spell over him.

Vegeta's fists curled tightly as he realized the door was open, that thin Namekian having already disappeared inside. This white dome was the largest one in the village, though it was still unimpressive. It was small and low-lying, a pitiful palace at best. He marched in past the rocky, red door, his eyes glancing towards the same Namekian who had led him here as he shut it behind the two of them. But he brought his gaze forward once more to look at the old, green sack stretched out in a low-lying chair, resting quite comfortably in that thing he supposed was the throne.

If he had been in better spirits, he would have humored himself by bowing low to the ugly Moori, though he couldn't bring himself to do it. That thing, that bug, lifted itself back up to its feet, admittedly better looking than that Guru thing had looked. However, over the years, it appeared that this one had let himself go. Vegeta could better see the resemblances between the two Namekians inside, this old creature's face creased with wrinkles, too. Outside, he had seemed far stronger, far more assertive, but the glow of fire put harsh relief to his decrepit face. No, Moori was certainly going, too, even at a far younger age than that old 'Grand Elder'.

He felt a small prod in the back, forcing him to twist his back around to determine the offender. But there he was, a tall Namekian man, one of those ridiculous spears being poked against his skin. His power level had been so low that Vegeta hadn't paid attention to him, imagining him to simply be some absentminded creature, one too stupid to realize that the Saiyan was powerful to wipe them all out, sticks and all, with a single blast.

He snarled as the Namekian jabbed him further in the back with the thing, going so far as to lodge the thing between his ribs without breaking skin in an attempt to force him on his knees. He knew that he had to give into these wretched bugs, though, or they might change their mind on the Dragon Balls. So he complied begrudgingly, kneeling down on one knee. Here was the prince, giving up some of his dignity for a wish. But that didn't really matter as he looked up at Moori, who was now standing up, his hands clenched to the throne's arms in support. As long as he got his wish and could do away with Kakarot and all of those others he had left on Earth, half-breeds included, he would be satisfied.

"Vegeta," the Namekian said slowly, his eyes tracking the Saiyan carefully. Vegeta tightened his fist, just wishing for him to hurry up. But the aged Namekian was in no rush, thus pausing before letting out a deep sigh, "It has taken time to decide just whether your wishes are worthy of being granted or not, but all of the elders believe we have reached a decision." The Saiyan closed his eyes, refraining from pummeling a quicker response out of the old bug. It took a great deal of will-power on his part to not look up at that thing with its wrinkled skin and just toss its lifeless body aside, demanding that his wishes be granted. Namekians, to his misfortune, weren't so moved by fear.

Moori wheezed a little as he swayed on the spot, a younger Namekian immediately hurrying to his side. But the Grand Elder waved him off, taking a step closer to Vegeta. He was certainly more fatigued now than he had been earlier, having had to listen to arguments of whether or not this Saiyan's wishes were to be granted. And Moori, who thought the answer was so clear, had been prodded in many directions. Even he wasn't sure if their final decision was wise, because though it seemed harmless, the Namekian could only wonder why the Saiyan would wish for such a thing.

Vegeta looked up at the Namekian towering over him, rising slowly back up to his normal height. Moori stopped his approach of the Saiyan, knocking away a staff another Namekian tried handing to him for support. The warrior that had his spear held to Vegeta's backside threateningly relented, backing away towards the door and standing with the rest towards the front of the room. Vegeta stiffened as the Namekian stepped forth once more, actually daring to place his wrinkled, old hand on the prince's shoulder. Then, with a certain calm that Vegeta could only imagine one of these bugs being able to maintain at a time such as this, he told him, "Cargo was right in informing you that I have already sent off the other elders to retrieve their Dragon Balls." The named Namekian visibly cringed at this, wishing that the Grand Elder wasn't so observant. He hesitated before explaining, "And you may not be satisfied, as we have decided to grant only one of your wishes."

The Saiyan Prince snarled as his heart rate soared, pulling himself out of the old Namekian's grasp. Spears immediately pointed in his directions at this sudden action, but Vegeta didn't care. He couldn't believe the nerve of these people, these bugs. They believed themselves to be in such a position that they could make the rules, and that he would have to follow their terms. But Vegeta played life by his own rules, refusing to be pushed around. He was on the verge of telling the Namekian this, but a second thought occurred to him. It really wouldn't matter, as long as they summoned the dragon. It would be risky, though with his tail, he could surely turn the tables in his favor.

His intensified breathing relaxed, remembering that he was the Saiyan Prince. His shoulders dropped back by his side as he closed his eyes, his mind trying to open up. This wasn't the end of the world, or it wasn't the end of his world, at least. So, with a deep breath, he asked, "What wish have you chosen?"

Moori's observant eyes trailed over the Saiyan's figure, a considerably taller man than he had been before. And now he had a tail, a strange thing at that, like nothing he had ever seen before. Though his armor was the same as those of Frieza's men so long ago, something he noted with a hint of remorse. Those had been evil men, and though this man had changed before him, he couldn't help but associate him with the others. This Vegeta, he had come to realize, was a far different man than he had been on Namek. Now he may have been self-centered, but Moori couldn't help but notice something else on the Saiyan's face. He thought that it perhaps may have been confusion, another reason in which he had been hesitant in granting any wishes at all. But the counsel had finally decided on the most seemingly harmless of the three, and as he looked into the prince's dark eyes, he said, "We have chosen your first wish as a group. Earth's moon shall be restored."

It may have seemed to be the wish with the least potential to be destructive, but Vegeta could hardly hide his smirk. Out of the three wishes, he had been hoping most for this one. Wishing for Vegeta back with all of its people and allies was his ultimate goal, but Earth would just be a step to that goal. He could obliterate all but that stupid Guardian of Earth and, knowing him to be a fool and coward, he could easily gather the Dragon Balls, wishing for what couldn't be wished for here. Of course, that was only Plan B. His Plan A would still be to haggle the wishes out of the fools on this planet, something he was confident he would have to rely on the moon for.

Vegeta bowed and said for the first time in many years, "Thank you." The polite gesture was foreign to him, and he couldn't help but twitch his lip as he said this. But it was necessary, he knew as he saw a slight smile of approval over the Grand Elder's face, as if believing that the Saiyan had actually changed. Though, to what would soon be to that Namekian's disappointment, Vegeta hadn't changed at all since the first day the bug had laid eyes on him. He was still the same cold-hearted, ruthless character he had been years ago, before meeting that blue-haired woman and having wretched mutts with her. He was himself again.


	64. Taking Care of Them

**Sorry for not updating in a few days. I've had a small case of writer's block, but I think I'm getting over it. Short chapter, but enjoy!**

The yellow helicopter descended slowly as its rotor lost speed. The grass on the ground was beat down by the force of air, each blade cowering away from the aircraft. The Capsule Corporation insignia gleamed as the craft touched down, glinting with the light from the stars above. Then, as everything stopped, the grass resuming its standing position once more, the front door popped open.

Goten hopped out of the driver's seat, landing on the grass. He looked up at the small building that was his house, built by a smaller building, his dojo. Living in the suburbs of East City had its advantages, and that was more room. They certainly weren't cramped inside of a tiny apartment, and they had enough room to keep such a large vehicle. He had a car, too, but that was rarely touched. He didn't mind carrying Valese short distances, but while she was pregnant, he wanted to keep her as comfortable as possible. Comfort was certainly key.

So he grimaced a little as he turned his eyes from the unconscious Valese to the straps restraining her from moving. He wanted to make sure that she was as safe as possible on that trip home, so he had adjusted her straps a bit too tightly, one actually slapping her in the face and pressing her cheek against the chair. He had wanted to readjust them the whole way home, but this particular vehicle didn't have an autopilot installed, and letting go of the controls would be more dangerous than her discomfort. So now, as he walked around the yellow copter, he pulled the passenger door open and pressed the center lock, the one restraining all of the straps. And at once, the restraints flew in different directions, a piece of metal actually nicking him in the face. Goten gritted his teeth, realizing that he was indeed his parents' son; none of them had a knack for technology.

He carefully lifted his wife out of the seat, carrying her in his arms as he slammed the door shut. Then he took her inside and into their bedroom, gently setting her down on the bed. He sighed as he looked down at her, a peaceful expression on her face now that she was out of that harness. He lifted her hand into his, looking at her and wondering if it was such a great idea to leave her.

He was certain that his mother was with Krillin and Eighteen; it was more of his father that he was worried about. But his father was the strongest man he knew, so if something had gotten to him, he didn't see how he could help. And as he rubbed Valese's colder hand, he couldn't imagine abandoning her when he was so helpless. No, he'd made a promise to her, and that was one he intended to keep.

His eyes drifted down to her protruding belly, knowing that he had to be their for their future son or daughter. There was no way that he would risk leaving both the baby and her alone, the two being utterly defenseless. He bit his bottom lip as he grabbed her high heels, bending down by the edge of the bed in an attempt to get the complicated straps off. After five minutes, he succeeded, throwing the pair over to the closet. Then he walked around the bed, laying down with her.

He wouldn't forget his promise to never leave.

* * *

Trunks could only stand out of the window, watching after Gohan's departed figure. He dropped his arms back to his side, releasing all tension in his hands to allow his fingers to dangle limply. He felt defeat after another sudden departure, something he wasn't ready to deal with.

He ignored Kibito Kai's comments and walked towards one of the other beds in the room, all with the same sterile, white sheets over them, only one with red on its pillow. Mr. Popo's eyes lingered over the poor demi-Saiyan's figure as he landed faceflat on one of the numerous beds, not bothering to kick off his boots or remove his gloves. He simply lay on his stomach, closing his eyes as he gave up. There was something that he was obviously missing, something that was a necessary to motivate him to stand up, to fight for his father's pride. He wondered briefly if Mr. Popo was right about finding that internal happiness lurking somewhere deep inside, though he quickly knocked that notion away as he dug his face further into the fluffy pillow. No, pride was definitely more important than happiness, he knew.

Kibito Kai hushed his chattering as he noticed Trunks laying on one of the beds, his voice disappearing. He looked from the Dende to Mr. Popo, the latter signaling for the three of them to leave the room, to leave the demi-Saiyan in peace. So they walked out, no objections being made on the part of the Kai, as Trunks drifted into a tired slumber.

Once out of the large room filled with beds and out on the landing, Kibito Kai said, "I guess I'll go for now. It looks as if my business is done here." And Dende had to refrain from speaking up, telling him that he had never had business there. But to speak with such disrespect to a Kai was unheard of, so the Kai only nodded as the genie looked up at the sky.

"That sounds good," the genie said, also eager to get the Kai out of their hair. He was a meddlesome type, one who didn't contribute much but still liked talking as if he was the wisest one there. Kibito Kai seemed to catch the enthusiasm in his voice, however; he had been expecting some denials, insisting that he stay there. But, no. They went outright to tell him that he was practically unwanted there.

Dende seemed to notice the way that the Kai was eyeing Mr. Popo suspiciously, so he lied, "I mean, we really do want you here, it's just that... we figure that you should be checking up on other planets now." Mr. Popo smiled innocently at that alongside Dende, but Kibito Kai didn't buy it. He only crossed his arms, flipping his white hair over his shoulder.

"I get it," the purple Kai said sourly. "I'm not wanted here. This is the same thing North Kai does every time I go to his planet." He turned away, pretending to be hurt. Perhaps he could guilt them into letting him stay... It wasn't as if he really had anything else to do. His only job was to manage the other Kais, and though it seemed as if they were doing pretty bad jobs seeing North Kai's example, he didn't want to leave the action here. He didn't care that Trunks was sleeping - as far as he knew, that might have been part of the act to get him to leave. But to his misfortune, Mr. Popo wasn't as afraid as Dende of hurting his feelings.

"Good-bye," the genie bluntly said, waving his hand. The Kai could only glare at him before, without a word, disappearing.

The Namekian and the genie both sighed with relief as soon the Kibito Kai left. He was a handful, almost as big a one as Trunks had proved himself to be. He needed constant attention, reminding Mr. Popo of a toddler. Toddler Kai. Now that was a horrific idea.

Mr. Popo turned to the Guardian of the Earth, somebody with whom he held far more respect, and asked, "Are you tired? If you want, I can watch over the boy."

Dende nodded. He had taken several naps throughout the day, as Namekians could sleep in almost any position, even with their eyes open, but his normal nap schedule had been disturbed by the events of the day. Ever since that morning Goku had appeared, he had done nothing but worry. It was tiresome, but he needed to worry about it. It was his job as Guardian of the Earth to hope that its inhabitants were fine and able to get along, even without his help.

As he walked off towards his own sleeping chamber, Dende asked, "Would you mind bringing me some water later? I'm pretty thirsty."

Mr. Popo only nodded as he watched the retreating figure, a large, toothless grin on his face. In need of naps and nourishment? He was definitely as helpless as an infant at times. Infant Namekian. Somehow, though, that idea didn't bother him as much as Toddler Kai. His job was to take care of these Guardians of Earth to the best of his ability, even if it was to simply run menial tasks such as fetching water or sweeping the grounds. And he enjoyed his job, he noted as he walked back to the room with Trunks. He liked infants better than toddlers, anyways.


	65. Reunion and Rebirth

**If you're a Videl/Gohan fan, enjoy this chapter. I'm rarely a romantic, but I felt inspired.  
**

Gohan had whipped through the air as quickly as possible. He noticed the moist blood on his shirt as it chilled him with the wind, pressing against his chest, though he hoped Videl wouldn't mind. He knew that he had promised to check up on Pan, though with the state he was in, he wasn't certain that was a good idea anymore.

He allowed his arms to drop by his side as he sped on, a bullet cutting air. His hair flopped back, still relatively clean for the most part, and he had an urge to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. But, to his disappointment, they weren't there. His face hardened as he thought over why he wore those lenses anyways - they weren't necessary, with his Saiyan blood giving him perfect vision. However, he felt unprotected with them, as if any of his students at any time could look into his eyes and realize that he was more than just a college professor. Especially the older ones, who might remember the Great Saiyaman or the Golden Fighter a bit better.

He pressed his flapping collar down around his neck, following it around the rim and trying to adjust his tie. Though as his fingers trailed down, he remembered that he had left his tie with Pan, so as to not get it dirty. His fingers had trailed into that pool of blood, placing a grimace on his face. He allowed his hand to drop back to his side, careful not to touch his pants lest he splotched them, too. And it looked as if those pants were the only things that could be saved from this mess of a night, unfortunately.

Then he reached down across his side to assure that his coat pockets were tucked in, but again, he was disappointed to find that they weren't there.

He was certainly a creature of habit.

Gohan chuckled lightly, not sure of how he felt exactly. There was something grounding about what had happened that night. He could remember everything clearly, from his first punch to that last swing of a kick. He couldn't help but form a lopsided grin on his face, thinking over his father's reaction to that kick to his privates. That was the first time he had seen his father get angry at him in a long time, and it relieved him. Here was his father, not putting on that hero act for his son. He was still human, as amazing as others tried to present him to be, and he was very much still capable of that human emotion of anger.

Of course, Gohan wished he hadn't taken such a deadly blow to his jaw from his father, knocking him out completely. No, in some aspects, his father was more than human; he couldn't help but add that at times he proved to be more than Saiyan, too.

Within only a few minutes, Gohan had reached his destination, the Satan mansion. He was standing on the front door step, tottering a bit from that speedy flight, just as fast as that flight he had used earlier that night, though it felt more controlled now. His hair was sticking up in odd places from the flight, but he only patted it down a little as he opened the front door.

Videl had just sprinted to the front door and out of her father's caring arms, having sensed her husband's ki suddenly appear so close. And as soon as she reached that front foyer, her face flushed but her eyes red, her father ambling behind as quickly as possible, that front door opened. She was caught in a standstill, her heart pounding as she felt each muscle in her body tense. To see Gohan again, to see him alive, to see him more powerful than he had been before - had he beaten his father?

But that wasn't her main concern. Goku was in the back of her mind, because she needed to focus on Gohan. If something had happened to him...

The door swung open, revealing a tall, lean figure in the dark of night, appearing as he stepped from the shadows. And Videl couldn't help but widen her eyes, staring at her husband standing there in tact. But there was something wrong, she knew, by the blood soaked into his shirt, bits of crusty blood flecked in his hair. Her lips parted in shock, unable to formulate a sentence, as her father ran into the room and yelled, "Gohan!"

It was a yell of both anger and anxiety. This boy had made his precious daughter worry all night about whether he had been asleep, losing a few hours of sleep that night. But he also couldn't help but worry himself about the boy, having become such a close part of his family. Gohan was certainly shocked by his tone - whereas he had been expecting open arms, he saw his father-in-law standing there, his hairy arms crossed ferociously across his chest. It was a glower that he only saw from that man, and especially when he was protecting Videl. If there was something Gohan had to respect the old World Martial Arts Champion for, it was certainly his love for his daughter.

Gohan bowed his head slightly in the direction of his elder, murmuring, "Mr. Satan." He decided that he needed to sort things out with his father-in-law first, make sure he still had permission to touch his daughter, but Videl thought otherwise. Quite childishly, she stuck her tongue out to her father and quickly ran up to Gohan, clamping her arms around him.

"Don't listen to my dad," she told Gohan as he stiffened, having not been hugged in a while. He felt guilty as he heard her heart beat slow down, able to relax now that she knew he was in one piece. But he also couldn't help but clench his teeth nervously as she pressed her head against the blood on his shirt, though she didn't seem to either notice or care.

Hercule wasn't so easily pushed by his daughter, however, and barked, "You were crying all night because of him! Do you think I like seeing my baby girl upset?" Then he rolled up a sleeve threateningly, and Videl couldn't help but smile at the way her father doted on her, even as an adult. This was the most energy he had displayed in a long time - too long of a time, in fact.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Satan," Gohan apologized, the perplexity in his eyes showing that he was confused about all that was happening. He wasn't sure if he should let Videl hug him or not, bringing him back to those uncomfortable teenage years. No, he and Videl rarely showed their emotions openly towards another, and Gohan was even more discomforted by her father being present. He winced a little, wishing that she would get off of him so that he could change. Then they could talk in bed for the first time in years. This night had brought about the realization that his life had been unstable over the past years, with him being too distant from his family. But he first needed to get Videl off of him so that he could properly explain what had happened that night.

And Videl obeyed his silent wishes, taking her arms from around him but still keeping her hands firmly on the edges of his shirt. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, a warning sign if Gohan ever saw one, as she looked at that blood stain on his shirt. She smirked evilly, tugging slightly at the ends of his shirt with a sudden wind lifting her again. Now that he was back, she felt so relieved, so in love with him, that she couldn't hold back her emotion anymore. In one sudden action, her strength returning from her younger days, she tore his button-down shirt open.

"Videl!" Gohan yelped, scandalized as he darted his eyes desperately towards his father-in-law. But Mr. Satan had nothing to say, his stony expression not revealing emotion as he watched a few buttons fly to the floor, bouncing around. He regarded that hungry expression on his daughter's face carefully, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. She certainly didn't look ashamed as she shrugged the remains of Gohan's shirt of of this shoulders, tossing it into her father's arms. Then she pressed her face against his bare torso, only slightly damp with blood, her husband sheepishly trying to hid into his shoulders.

Gohan chuckled nervously as he noticed the sudden presence of maids, some peeping their head out curiously, some tittering at his obvious unease. "Videl, there are people watching..." he muttered, regarding her expression with slight fear. There was something different about her now. She had that hungry expression on her face, one that he had forgotten about. It had been years since they had been even this intimate with one another, and he felt like the awkward, teenage boy he had once been, especially as she elevated herself off of the ground.

"I don't care," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck protectively. But then, as she was about to kiss him, she felt his arms pushing her away from him. And her strength was nothing to combat his. She clenched her teeth as she looked up at him, her feet now flat on the floor. Then she placed a hand to her hip and asked furiously, "What was that for?"

Gohan had that crooked grin on his face, unsteady as he felt. He ignored Videl's question and turned to his father-in-law, his superior, and said, "We're going upstairs." He gulped as he heard a few laughs from the audience of maids, though his eyes were only for Mr. Satan's approval.

To his relief, his father-in-law revealed a chagrined grin as he folded his shirt into a wad and said, "Fine, fine, do whatever you want. But remember - you're telling me what happened in the morning." And as Gohan nodded slightly, his daughter rolling her eyes impatiently, he added, "And you better not tell me about what happens tonight, because I'd rather not think about a little Hercule Jr. running around this-"

"Dad!" Videl said testily, not as embarrassed as Gohan, who had turned a fierce red. She had gotten over her father's jabs at their relationship a long time ago, and she thought that Gohan had, too. But here he was, just as self-conscious as he had been years ago. Just a few days ago, he would have been indifferent to being seen shirtless in the house. But here he was, a giddy teenager again, acting as if there was something wrong with him. He seemed different after whatever happened that night between him and his father, something they would talk about while in the shower, trying to get his blood out of their hair.

She didn't give the situation much thought, seeing as he seemed perfectly normal. But she didn't realize that, underneath, a barrier that had been present for so long had finally broken away. Because he had once been able to walk around without any problem, once been able to assert his authority over his father-in-law, one might have assumed that it was his confidence that had shattered.

It was his pride.


	66. Contact with the Unknown

**In a rush to get this out before school. Enjoy!**

Vegeta smirked a little as he stood there in the Namekian hut of a palace, everybody awaiting the return of the other elders. So far, he had seen one Dragon Ball here; Moori had been so generous as to show him the sphere, the six-star. He had snuffed it, trying to show disinterest in the whole matter. If the Namekians though he cared too much, they might become suspicious of his motives. But as it was, Moori simply placed the Dragon Ball into his lap as he sat back down in his throne.

Cargo was still waiting by the door, dozing slightly as he stood. He jolted as one of the other Namekians, a warrior, by his build, exclaimed, "There are two elders approaching!" And so there were, neither as old nor decrepit as the ancient Moori. The Grand Elder lifted his heavy head, having also started to drift off to sleep, and smiled as he saw their two leaner figures standing in the entryway. They moved in, cautiously maneuvering around Vegeta, eyeing his figure with curiosity. One of them remembered him, the other had no recollections whatsoever of the man. But they both agreed on one thing, and that was that he was a dangerous foe when dissatisfied.

So the one, two, and six-star were all placed together, now resting at Moori's withered feet. Vegeta regarded the three elders, two of them standing around the throne, and scoffed. He couldn't believe that there was so much magical power resting in such pathetic weaklings. The thought almost scared him, though, as he knew that they had deceiving appearances. He wasn't sure what each individual could do, as they all had different strengths, which was another reason why he didn't try a direct assault. What if one of them could somehow ruin all of his efforts with some unknown ability?

Vegeta folded his arms against his Saiyan armor, leering at one of the guards. But that guard maintained a stoic expression, as if saw right past the Saiyan. With a snarl, Vegeta vaguely wondered just what type of people these were. They were certainly loyal to their kind, though he hoped that it would be this loyalty that would crush them.

* * *

King Kai had resumed waxing his car, trying to ignore Elder Kai as he began fiddling with his crystal ball. But even King Kai couldn't block out the spurts of dirty laughter leaving the purple Kai's lips as he watched women on beaches with that ball, trying to relieve himself of that disappointment from not getting his kiss. Though he agreed that Baba was a vile woman, King Kai had to thank her on one part - at least he wasn't being forced to watch the Kai try to resuscitate that young maid with his 'love'.

Elder Kai snickered dirtily, taking his mind off of that hag. He decided that he hated that woman from the first words that came from her mouth, with her chastising her superior. He was above all else, besides perhaps the Head Supreme Kai, but he wasn't around anymore. So treating Elder Kai with anything less than complete servitude was against all rules, all boundaries. It might as well have been illegal. If he was a king, he would have had that creepy Baba character beheaded, but his type of royalty did not work in that way. No. Instead, he could only hope the worst for that woman, especially since she reminded him of that witch that had fused so long ago with him using the Potara Earrings, forcing him to remain in this disgusting state for the rest of eternity. Baba's crystal ball had probably begun malfunctioning once it realized how ugly she was.

But he turned his thoughts from that bag to the scantily clad women in his crystal ball. King Kai winced as he heard a howl from the older Kai, forcing him to throw his towel down on the ground in defeat. He bent down behind the gleaming, red car, hoping that the older Kai was too absorbed in his own amusement, to ask Gregory, "How do I get rid of him? I can't stand him! I asked him for his crystal ball for a few seconds so that I could check up on Earth, but he won't give it! Not even for the good of the planet, that selfish, old, wrinkly..."

The cricket shrugged as his master grumbled on, insulting the older Kai and all of his ancestors. He flitted higher off of the pavement and suggested, "You could transport yourself to Earth."

King Kai twisted his face in bemusement, pointing to the halo hovering over his head. "I'd have to get permission from Yemma, and he's a stickler for the rules."

"What about Baba?"

The expression of disbelief on the blue Kai's face had the cricket jump back a little. "I dislike her as much as the next man," he whispered, jabbing in Elder Kai's direction with his thumb. The fool was now babbling, practically drooling over himself. "I'm not going to invite her back to this planet. I just got done with her, so why would I want to deal with her again?" King Kai readjusted the spectacles on his face, a slight gleam shining on them as he muttered, "And I tried contacting Goku with my antennae, but he's not picking up!"

Gregory looked down to the ground, about to suggest trying to contact another Z Fighter, when he heard a loud thud on the grassy lawn. He flew over the car, hovering just above the waxed surface as King Kai stood upright. The two of them noticed, each frowning, that Kibito Kai had reappeared. King Kai furrowed his forehead indignantly and stooped down to pick up the waxing rag, tempted to bash both purple Kais over the head with it until they left. He was sick of them being on his planet. Unless Kibito Kai had managed to do something on Earth to help Goku, the two of them had accomplished absolutely nothing during their time here.

But the glare the blue Kai was sending the two of them softened as he noticed Supreme Kai was turned around, facing Elder Kai with his fists on his hips. He saw the younger Kai flip his long, white hair behind him, demanding, "We're leaving, Elder."

Elder Kai's shoulders slumped as he looked up at the younger Kai, saying, "I don't want to go." He was sick of staying on that one 'sacred' planet, nobody else able to visit because it would be sacrilege. No, though they weren't very good company, at least North Kai and his friends were company at all. He pouted a little, but that did nothing to stop Kibito Kai to grab him by the forearm.

"Let's go."

And with these words, Elder Kai scooped his crystal ball into his arm. The two of them disappeared, leaving the cricket and blue Kai completely stunned, Bubbles leaping around in the background. The two of them watched as they vanished, eyeing the spot after they vanished. And, with late reflexes, King Kai yelled, "Wait!"

He leapt over the car, risking his new wax job. He was glad that they were gone, having actually escorted themselves from that tiny planet without even a lame good-bye to the Kai, but he needed something from them. He stood on the spot they had been, unable to believe that they had actually left so quickly, and was stuck between rejoicing and disappointment. Gregory noticed the mixture of feeling on his master's face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I wanted their crystal ball..." King Kai said, his arms falling to his side. He had wanted to use that thing to see the happenings on Earth, and he had hoped that they would have granted that last request. Of course, they were a bunch of brats, so he supposed that they might not even listen to him, even if it was for the good of the world. He simply wanted to know the happenings of Earth.

Gregory nodded, knowing exactly why the Kai had wanted to use the crystal ball. So he finally asked, "Why don't you try another Z Fighter? Goku's not the only one who would know what's happening, is he?"

"Who am I supposed to contact?" King Kai asked, slumping down on the ground. He hunched over, picking absentmindedly at a few blades of grass. "Tien and Chiaotzu are in exile, Yamcha doesn't know anything anymore, neither does Krillin, Piccolo is trying to kill Goku, and... well, those are the only fighters I can think of."

"Can't you call the Guardian of Earth?" Gregory inquired, patiently hovering just in front of his master. But King Kai only shook his head, exhaling deeply.

"Dende isn't like Kami. He's so scared of Piccolo, I think he'd turn me right over to him."

Gregory bobbed his head, feeling as defeated as his master. No, it didn't look as if they had much to do besides sit and wait now. He landed in the grass by his master, laying down and making a nice bed out of it as he looked up at the sky. There was nothing they could do, so the cricket closed his eyes, just recollecting the events from that day. Goku arrived at Kami's Lookout, those annoying Supreme Kais came, and... they had all used the crystal ball to look up one person in particular.

Gregory sat right back up and yelled, "King Kai!" King Kai looked down at his cricket friend, having been watching Bubbles monkeying around on the other side of the planet. "Why don't you try calling Vegeta?"

"Vegeta?" King Kai asked, trying to make sure that he had heard right. Gregory nodded, and King Kai stared at the horizon of his planet. Vegeta was only near Namek, apparently, but was he really the type of pick up? Not even Goku would pick up anymore, and as for the rest of the Z Fighters... well, he supposed he hadn't tried any of them. But Vegeta?

He cupped his chin in his hand in thought, knowing that Vegeta would be an important source to get information from. And this was the closest the Saiyan had been in many years to King Kai's sector of the universe, seeing as he had lost all contact with him. His antennae twitched as they located his coordinates, his spectacles glinting a little. Yes, it was possible, but was it wise?

King Kai shrugged a little, unable to imagine how it would hurt. So, with his antennae fidgeting through the air and Gregory floating up, pressing a hand to his backside, King Kai called out in his nasally voice, "Vegeta? Are you there?"


	67. Furry Questions

**Learn two things: Vegeta has not mastered the art of cutting off communication yet, and the Namekians are not accustomed to seeing things such as furry tails. Enjoy this update - I hope it answers some questions you all have been nagging me about in the most kind and endearing way possible.**

Four and five had arrived, these Namekians seeming to enjoy traveling in pairs. Vegeta leered at them as they passed by, this couple chubbier than the last two elders to come. But they joined the others, hovering protectively around the throne, though none of them actually touched it. He regarded them carefully, his eyes lowering to the Dragon Balls at their feet. One, two, three, four, and six. He bared his teeth, wondering just where lucky five and seven were. If his plan panned out, he might have to kill them last as punishment for making him wait. Then they could watch as he stamped out the rest of their pitiful race.

Vegeta gripped his wriggling monkey tail in his white glove, rubbing its rough fur with his thumb. It was still wrapped around his waist, only the tip of it detaching itself from his body. A few of the Namekians glanced nervously at it, and quite suddenly, the dormant Grand Elder asked, "What is that you have?"

He had his wrinkled hands clasped together, sitting neatly on his round lap as he looked up at the Saiyan. Vegeta only smirked, tempted to tell him that it was a surprise. But the thought was a foolish one, and he was instantly glad that Namekians couldn't read minds. Of course, if they could, they would have tried stabbing him to death a long time ago. A sudden thought, however, passed over him. What if this was all a trap?

He squinted his eyes suspiciously. Perhaps they couldn't read his mind, though they seemed to be able to read each other's, judging by the way that some of the elders were nodding their heads, making noncommittal tones. But what if they could read his mind? What if they knew of his plan to destroy them all? What if this was all a ploy, simply trying to get the Dragon Balls together when they would wish something accursed upon him? He clenched his teeth together, looking over the expectant Namekian sitting in his throne. These were a peaceful people, one who kept promises. He had no choice but to trust them, seeing as he wouldn't get his way otherwise.

With some of this sudden anxieties dissipating, he allowed his tail to unwind from around his body, automatically bringing some of the warriors to point their spears at the harmless appendage. They had believed it to be an eccentric belt of some sort, not a strange, flexible limb. But Moori could only suppress a chuckle and wave his hand, trying to relieve the people of their fears. They certainly were a skittish people, trained to be wary of anything strange or foreign. The warriors eyed their leader carefully before elevating their sticks again, standing them back on end. He noticed a slight amusement on the Saiyan's face, and Moori knew what most of the others refused to believe - any form of defense against this creature would be fruitless. It would be best to not make him angry, but as for getting a small smirk out of him, he supposed that was acceptable.

"This is my tail," Vegeta explained nonchalantly as he crossed his arms. Some of the warriors backed away as the tail swung closer to them, almost whipping at them. But Vegeta could only manage a smile, his fear of these people disappearing instantly. They were a suspicious people, certainly, probably having only seen a tail on Frieza, his goons, and a few creatures on that blasted planet of Earth. Perhaps his tail would come as more help to him than simply allowing him to transform into his ultimate form. It could be a weapon of potential fear, he noted as another Namekian took a few steps back, in awe of the thing.

"There's nothing to fear," Moori said confidently, trying to assuage his people's worries. Some of them allowed their shoulders to drop, but others could only continue standing in their defensive stances. Then, quite curiously, the Grand Elder inquired, "When did you acquire such a thing? I've never seen one quite so... furry, as I believe the term is."

Vegeta's smirk grew as he regarded the Namekians once more. There was certainly nothing 'furry' about them, making the term humorous coming from his mouth. And now, so pleased as he was watching the old bug's eyes carefully following his tail, he said, "Saiyans are born with tails. When you last saw me, it had been cut off by an oaf of an Earthling." A glint of his rage returned, remembering how the bumbling Yajirobe managed to cut the tail off of the prince of all Saiyans in such a humiliating manner. But he quickly recomposed himself as he allowed his tail to run over his gloved hand, exhaling deeply before darting his eyes back to that old Namekian's. "All Saiyans have tails, but I managed to grow mine back.

"There's a certain science to it that I never understood, that nobody was able to tell me of," he said, engaging the attention of all Namekians in this room. Even Cargo managed to look up from his nap, unable to sleep with Vegeta's harsh voice reverberating through the room. "Nobody ever thought that Saiyans could grow their tails back after being defeated, seeing as no Saiyan in recorded history has had such happen. But it turns out that prolonged exposure to a strong moon will promote such growth." There were a few quizzical expressions on the faces of some Namekians, thinking of that bright thing in the sky that lit up their nights. "You see, my home planet, Vegeta, never had a moon to prevent-"

He cut himself off, biting his own tongue. To speak of how Vegeta's moon had been destroyed long ago by his father to prevent Saiyans from destroying their own planet during transformations from man to beast would be the end of his plan. So he sighed and continued, ignoring the narrowing of Moori's small, cunning eyes, "My home planet never had a moon. Thus, people were never exposed to moons long enough to grow their tails back, as when they were sent to clear planets with moons, they only stayed for brief periods of time." He simpered, seeing a few of the Namekians glance uneasily towards the Grand Elder. But he only leaned forward in his seat, intrigued. "It was a reason why I never grew my tail back. Earth, unfortunately, had its moon destroyed years and years ago.

"So I traveled through space after I abandoned that planet to train, trying to find another suitable habitat in which I could test my skills. I traveled from planet to planet in search of the perfect terrain on which I could train, and it wasn't until quite recently that I found one. I found a planet with a high gravity, though not nearly as high as I would have liked, and I settled down on it. I gave no thought to the moon on it, though after a few months, I noticed something rather... peculiar." There was no way that he could have forgotten the itch on his rear end, being a painful one, one that he couldn't appease by scratching. In the end, however, it had been worth it. "I had grown a tail."

The Namekians all stood there, entranced by his words. Even Moori couldn't help but ponder over the idea of the moon, something so unimportant in their culture, being so vital in another. He didn't know very much about Saiyans, but he did know enough to ask, a bit hesitantly as he Vegeta stared straight at him, "And does this mean that Goku will grow a tail, too?"

Vegeta's lips separated slightly, having not given much thought to him. It had taken him months to grow his tail back, but he wondered if Kakarot would prove himself a superior warrior once again, managing to grow his tail back in only a few hours. He pursed his lips back together, turning his eyes to his white shoes as he slowly replied, "Yes, Kakarot would also grow his tail back." He peered back up to see a surprised expression on the old bag's face, wondering just what had gotten into him. He seemed pleased for some reason.

Of course, there was really nothing for Vegeta to worry about. Even Kakarot wouldn't be able to grow his tail back that quickly, and as far as he knew, demi-Saiyans couldn't grow tails. Or he, at least, had never heard of it, even with the scandals spread through his childhood of such repulsive acts being committed. And he, the Prince of Saiyans, had gone so far as to commit such an act by breeding with a... human. He sneered in shame of the memory.

He was about to ask just why the bug had that hint of a smile under those folds on his face, but he immediately heard a voice ring through his mind, a familiar voice that he couldn't help but loathe. "Vegeta? Are you there?" He gritted his teeth, looking towards the ceiling of the low, domed hut, wondering just why this monstrosity of a Kai had to interrupt such an important phase in his plan to bring down Kakarot.

He stomped his foot down angrily, attracting a share of suspicious glared from around the hut, and asked the sky, "What is it you want, you oaf? I'm busy!"

Moori leaned forth, unable to hear King Kai's words. He stared at the loon of a Saiyan, seeming to have suddenly shifted from indifference to fury. Curiously, so curiously, he and the others watched. He waved the warriors away once more as they lowered their spears towards the madman, intrigued by just what the Saiyan was doing.

"Sorry, Mr. I'm-Too-Good-For-My-Family-And-Friends," the blue Kai snorted, holding his stomach. Vegeta growled, clenching his fists by his side.

"You are neither my family nor my friend," the Saiyan brusquely replied, his tail wrapping itself around him once more. He didn't want to have this conversation with that thing now or ever, only remembering the blue creature from its disgusting voice. Especially as it chuckled so, only confident because Vegeta wasn't physically able to pummel him at the moment.

There were a few more chortles before the Kai corrected him, "I wasn't talking about me. You ran off and abandoned your real family and friends. Remember your wife, your kids, your friends, all-"

"Yes, I remember," he sneered, uncertain of how to turn off communication with the Kai. He could only grit his teeth in frustration, unable to comprehend just why that wretched Kai had chosen now to invade his thoughts. He ignored the stares of Namkeians as he yelled, "Just leave me alone!"

The condescending tuts of disapproval from the Kai's mouth, as he presumed these words were coming from, only had the Saiyan curl his lip in disgust. "Now, now, Vegeta," King Kai tried coaxing him, thoroughly enjoying getting such a reaction out of the Saiyan Prince. It had been a while since Vegeta had been around such fools, and now he was out of practice in the art of dealing with them. It had been a while since he had dealt with anybody who did not fear him for their life, as the Kai had no life to fear for. "Is that any way to talk to me? I am very powerful, you know."

"I'll show you powerful!" the Saiyan snarled, his middle finger jerking slightly. He acknowledged, however, that he was in front of Namekians, all of whom he was forced to try to impress. To show such a signal would only be barbaric on their standards, so he contented himself by threatening, "When I come back, I'll be sure to give you the beating you deserve!"

And Vegeta's voice rang throughout the small dome, no response coming after that. The communication had been cut off between Kai and Saiyan, leaving Moori to ask curiously, "When you go back to Earth?" He realized that Vegeta was sane enough to have actually been talking to somebody, though the other Namekians were not convinced. Even some of the elders were wondering now if he was right in the mind, though Vegeta contented his rage by sending a glare towards all of them.

"To HFIL, probably," he muttered, unimpressed as one more elder stood in the door, shocked by the prince's yelling match with himself. He edged carefully around Vegeta, who simply crossed his arms, his nose twitching in disgust. What had that blasted Kai wanted?


	68. Tackling Two at Once

**Not necessarily my favorite chapter, but I hope that it's suitable. Enjoy!**

Krillin grimaced as he turned his eyes from the woman clutched in his small arms to the white manor resting below. He stared at Chi-Chi's face, now pale in the dark of night, the city's lights illuminating the area enough so that he could see. He allowed his shoulders to drop a little as he noticed Eighteen plunge down, and he quickly followed her lead.

They landed in front of the grand house, and as Eighteen walked up to the porch, Krillin decided to knock some of the loose strands of hair out of Chi-Chi's eyes. He pressed his lips together, his heart throbbing slightly for the woman's pains. No, he had certainly seen her go through a lot, but this... This was bad. Goku just left, abandoning her again. And even Krillin knew women well enough to know that Chi-Chi hadn't wanted that. No, she had wanted him to stay there, but Goku was sometimes too lenient for his own sake. Krillin let out a small huff of breath, looking at his wife as she rapped quickly on the wooden door three times.

He hoped that Samuel Kahn wouldn't mind that she was unconscious. The more Krillin thought about it, the more he realized that this situation reminded him of a situation he had been stuck in a long time ago, after the first time Goku had died. Roshi had forced him to be the one to break the news to Chi-Chi, this woman that was now laying so pitifully in his arms, that her husband had been killed and her husband's murderer had taken her only son for training.

So that might have been worse, but now, Krillin couldn't bring himself to face the man of the household. He didn't care how small and shriveled and deprived of proper nutrition the man was. There was a protectiveness Kahn had for Chi-Chi that he had rarely seen in others, and even Goku seemed to care less about his ex-wife than her new husband did. On the occasion that Krillin visited this mansion to check up on how things were going, he had often noted the complete respect Kahn gave his wife, something strange to Krillin's ears now: Chi-Chi wasn't Goku's wife.

Krillin pulled himself to join his wife on the porch as she tucked her short, blond hair behind her ear. Then she crossed her arms, the two of them listening to a pair of feet scuffling on the other side of the door. Then, after hearing a few deadbolts slide from place, the door cracked open slightly. "Who is it?" called a shaky female voice, the doorknob rattling slightly.

"It's me, Krillin, one of Chi-Mrs. Kahn's friends," he explained, switching words in the middle of a sentence. He had gotten used to addressing her as Mrs. Kahn over the years, but after seeing Goku again, the name sounded foreign on his tongue. He bit his tongue in distaste as the door flung open, displaying a rather haggard-looking maid. Her young eyes were wide as she placed a hand to her mouth, unable to speak as she saw just what he had in his hands.

Krillin chuckled nervously, his breath bated as he glanced up to his wife for help. But she had nothing to contribute, leaving him to simply dump Chi-Chi into the poor woman's open arms, muttering, "She'll be up again in no time." But the maid could say nothing, only wondering what was happening. First that maid that had been dropped off by that short and creepy lady, and now her master's wife being dropped off by a mysterious duo? There was something wrong, she knew, but she could say nothing on the subject. She trembled slightly, murmuring a small word of thanks, and retreated back into the house. And the two standing outside could hear each latch and deadbolt slammed across the door, counting six in all.

"Tight security," Krillin muttered, looking awkwardly at his feet. It had been worse and better in some ways than he had expected such a confrontation being. On the bright side, it was brief. Unfortunately, he knew that the maid was probably traumatized. There was nothing, however, that Krillin could do about it, unless he wanted to recommend somebody to talk to.

The short man sighed before looking towards the sky, seeing his wife already hovering above him impatiently. "Come on!" she called, zooming out of sight. He smiled as he watched her departing figure, moving far more quickly now that they didn't have to tow Chi-Chi's unconscious body around, dragging it across a sea and a half. But just as he felt his feet leave the wooden porch beneath him, leaving the safety of ground for the open air, he heard a familiar voice cut clearly in his mind.

"Krillin!" King Kai's voice seemed to yell, pounding his head. His voice seemed hurried, rushed, as Krillin placed a palm against his forehead. If he ever wanted a headache, just getting King Kai's nasally voice to penetrate the innards of his skull was enough to do the job.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Krillin assured him, recovering from his stagger in pain. He was an old man, now, and he couldn't handle the Kai's voice like he used to. He bristled his moustache, watching his wife disappear in the distance without noticing he hadn't followed, and muttered indignantly, "You don't have to yell, you know..."

King Kai ignored this little snippet and announced urgently, "Vegeta's coming back!" Krillin felt his heart's beating quickly hasten as he heard these three, threatening words. He bobbed his head numbly, his head splitting from the Kai's shrill voice, as he continued, "I tried contacting Yamcha, but I couldn't get in contact with him for some reason, so I had to resort to you." Geez. Thanks.

But Krillin was too confused by what the Kai was telling him to express his enthusiasm, simply asking, "What do you want me to do about it?" He tried keeping calm to enable himself to think over the situation more clearly, but he couldn't completely suppress the panic rising in his chest. Certainly Vegeta returning didn't seem that terrible. He had become a civilized man for the most part, even taking up Earth table manners. Krillin's gut, however, told him otherwise. He looked up to the sky, knowing that if Vegeta returned, there was nothing he could do about it.

So why had King Kai told him?

"I don't know why I told you," the Kai admitted, having simply thought that the information would be good for the short man to hold. But Krillin had trouble thanking him - knowledge of the Saiyan's return was only another thing to worry about.

"Is he... mad?" the man asked uncertainly, not knowing what to do. With the knowledge of Vegeta returning, was he supposed to man the bases? Was he supposed to tell everybody? Was he supposed to host a surprise party for the Saiyan. But King Kai seemed to have no answers, simply being in a rush to get the news out.

With a huff, the Kai said, "I don't know." He knew just what Krillin meant by mad. Was he ready to tear all of their throats out? No, the Kai couldn't be sure. "I just want you to keep on the lookout for him. I'll tell you if I get any updates."

Krillin nodded, the beat of his heart dying away. There was nothing worth worrying about. Vegeta was a good guy now. He had simply disappeared to train against Goku, or so the man hoped. But two Saiyans returning in one day? It couldn't simply be coincidence, could it?

He began soaring off in the direction his wife had gone, surprised that Eighteen hadn't turned back around to see what was taking him so long. He exhaled deeply a few times as he rose, steadily climbing in the air, and wondered just what to tell her. She wouldn't be happy, he knew. There was a distrust of Saiyans that he knew was lodged into the android heart of her's, and he could never figure out just why she avoided them. He liked to think it a bug in her programming, but something told him otherwise. Eighteen was powerful enough to override her programming if she truly put her mind to it, but something he knew that she had never pushed herself to accept the Saiyan community. It was odd, surely, but he never really questioned her decisions.

He closed his eyes and tried sensing his wife's ki, quite stupidly. After being married to her for so many years, he should have adjusted to the fact that androids had no ki, or at least not the same type that humans possessed. However, to his surprise after remembering this little detail about his wife, he realized that there was a powerful ki before him, having stopped in flight. He clenched his teeth and flew forth, recognizing the energy.

And he stopped, seeing his wife in the distance with a towering, green man, quarreling with him. The two turned around towards Krillin as he approached, and the short man could only wonder just what Piccolo was doing here at this time of night. As far as he knew, Piccolo had never even been to the Kahn mansion. What brought him there now?

But Piccolo was the first to talk, pushing Eighteen out of the way to growl, "Where's Goku? I know you all have him."

Krillin raised his hands protectively, unable to understand just what had passed over the Namekian. He looked angry, certainly, as he stared at the short, defensive man. There was something sparking an anger in Piccolo, though Krillin could only reply nervously, "We don't have him, Piccolo."

Piccolo lurched forward angrily, having become tired of this little game of hide-and-seek the Saiyan was playing with him. But before he could move, he felt Eighteen's hand holding him by his cape, choking him for a brief second. He glared at the woman as she glared back, her blue eyes showing a rare fire. "Don't attack my husband," she ordered, letting Piccolo go.

The Namekian exhaled deeply, refusing to apologize. Instead, he explained, "I've been trying to find Goku all night. You two haven't seen him - have you?" The question startled Krillin a little, though Eighteen stayed composed.

"No," she said quite bluntly, her arms crossed as she leered at the Namekian. She may have trusted Namekians more than Saiyans due to their more peaceful nature, but that didn't mean she had to trust Piccolo specifically. He was a warrior and inherently evil, and those were two things that Eighteen found suspicious about him. Even though she was a fighting machine and had been programmed to kill, she excused herself. She had been programmed to do so, and she had managed to break free of those things. But if somebody was born with such fearsome qualities, that was different. They were stuck with it for the rest of their lives.

Piccolo snorted at this response, folding his arms against his chest. But Krillin decided that this silence in their arguing would be an opportune time to inform him of the news King Kai had just told him of, and he exclaimed, "Guys, Vegeta's coming back!"

Eighteen crossed her arms, looking with vague interest towards her husband. Where had he heard such a ridiculous thing? And Piccolo wondered the same thing, only he knew that this was true. That worthless Kibito Kai had told him of such earlier that night, but he had no idea of where this worthless human would hear of such a thing. "Who told you?" the Namekian asked suspiciously, his cape waving gently as the wind picked up.

"King Kai," Krillin said, immediately jumping back as Piccolo snarled at the mention of that Kai. Piccolo looked on to Chi-Chi's house with his keen eyes, deciding that it wouldn't be worth his time to stop by. His next question of business was one that Eighteen had been refusing to answer: he wanted to know just what they were doing at Chi-Chi's house. But this was sidetracked as his mind dwelled over Krillin's reply, being completely unsatisfactory.

"Why are you contacting King Kai?" the Namekian asked, hovering there as he stared at the little man.

Krillin cracked a nervous smile, his grey moustache tickling under his nose. With a hand scratching the top of his hairy head, he explained, "I didn't contact him. He contacted me, because he apparently just found out the big news himself." He allowed a tiny smirk to land on his face as he said, "He sure was excited about it, too... Strange fellow."

But Piccolo still wasn't appeased by this. "Did he give any specifics as to when he would be coming to Earth? Say... now?"

Now? But with that deathly glare being shot at him, sensing the seriousness in the Namekian's tone, Krillin stuttered, "Y-yeah, now, I guess." Eighteen narrowed her eyes suspiciously, still lost on what was going on. Why would King Kai have contacted Krillin, of all people? Was there nobody else?

Piccolo's mind, however, was running because of a different reason. Goku's presence was only a minor inconvenience compared to Vegeta arriving. They needed to plan, to form a strategy. Something about Vegeta's coming disconcerted the Namekian, as he knew not everything was right. He was enough like the Saiyan to realize that he would only return to Earth if he was in need of something, and Piccolo knew that the something he needed wasn't his family. No, it would have to be something on a far grander scale.

"Come with me," Piccolo insisted, shooting off in the direction of Kami's Lookout. "We have to go plan."

And he faded in the distance, trusting that they would follow. Krillin drifted in the Namekian's direction, tracing his ki as he turned back to Eighteen. Then, with a knowing nod, she allowed her arms to drop back to her sides and chase Piccolo down. Krillin could only watch briefly as his wife shot past him, wondering just what could have brought two Saiyans together on one night. Something was wrong, he knew as he looked for a last time to the moonless sky.


	69. Nothing to Remain

**Some action! I love this chapter, and I hope that everybody else loves it, too!**

As all of the Namekians observed Vegeta, wondering how the hot-tempered Saiyan could calm down so quickly after throwing a bizarre fit, Moori pushed himself out of his throne. He grunted with the effort, this time allowing two of the other elders to hoist him up to his feet. And once he was standing steadily on the tattered soles of his shoes, he accepted his cane that one of the younger Namekians had been holding. He leaned against it, fatigued from the day's events, and suggested, "We should go outside and wait for Lamaca to arrive with the final Dragon Ball."

The crowd began chattering, some of the warriors stirring forth and bending down to each pick up one or two of the over-sized, orange spheres. Moori nodded, following them as they led the way out of the cramped hut, a procession forming as they left one at a time. As Moori glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the Saiyan eyeing the group suspiciously with his arms folded against his armor, he laughed, "Why don't you come and join us?"

Vegeta nodded, waiting for the last of them to exit. He was still perturbed by that stupid, blue Kai contacting him. He had forgotten about that lousy being, thinking himself so great as to be a deity. No, that Kai was simply a self-absorbed fool. But he could be a threat, the Saiyan Prince had to acknowledge. He could effectively communicate with anybody almost anywhere, and by the way that their less-than-pleasant conversation just went, Vegeta knew that the Kai wasn't afraid of him.

It wasn't as much the conversation that perturbed Vegeta as it was the way it had ended. It had ended so abruptly, Vegeta managing to only threaten the imbecile before all communication had been cut off between them. But Vegeta wasn't given much time to worry over such a trifling matter, as there were much more important things at hand. He nodded as a last warrior stood by the door, his spear lowered defensively. But Vegeta simply brushed past him, knowing that there were far larger, stronger beasts to be dealt with.

The Saiyan stepped into the dark of night, his armor glinting with the curious moon light. But he could not look up into the night sky just yet. It wouldn't be until they fulfilled at least that one wish of Earth's moon being restored that he would transform from man to monkey. As of now, he simply contented himself by standing idly near the hut, watching as the Namekians gathered in a ring. He stayed near the outskirts of this circle, having decided that he didn't want to be bothered just yet. No, he wanted to only be an observer at this moment, determining just what his battle strategy would be against these weak people.

He rested his fists on his hips as his eyes darted suspiciously about the crowd, most of the population ignoring him in their fervor. Yes, they were all so excited now for the venerated Porunga to make his might appearance in the sky, but he knew that their excitement would die as soon as they learned of what he had in store for them. He smirked devilishly, allowing his stained teeth to peek out from behind chapped lips.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed a young Namekian edging along the side of the crowd towards him. It was that same one that seemed to enjoy pestering him, though this Namekian had been the one to foolishly push along vegeta's desires, calling for the counsel to gather. He certainly did seem to owe this thin one something, though he wouldn't inform him of that. Instead, as he noticed that anxious expression on the Namekian's face, Vegeta spat, "They must really hate you, boy."

His words were clear even over the roar of the excited crowd. Cargo stopped in his tracks and parted his mouth a little, surprised by what the Saiyan had said. Vegeta could see the edges of his mouth twitch, unable to find anything to say to that, and decided to explain, "They seem to enjoy sending you to make contact with the fierce Saiyan warrior. Why is that?"

Cargo relaxed his shoulders, instantly relieved that Vegeta hadn't been making some death threat. Or at least to his knowledge, he wasn't. The Namekian shrugged a little, keeping his distance from the Saiyan, as he said, "Well, the Grand Elder needs somebody to talk to foreigners, and I'm one of the only ones who will." His antennae drooped a little as he sighed, wishing that the Grand Elder didn't like him so much. But it was this love for the young Namekian that was the reason for these pushes of Cargo's character. The Grand Elder certainly wanted him to amount to more than he could hope for.

"It's always the cowards that will die last," Vegeta lamented, regretting having spoken as he immediately noticed Cargo's expression contort into one of fear again. It was too late to take back that sentiment, however, so the Saiyan decided to craftily change the subject by inquiring, "What is it that you need from me?"

The Namekian quickly recomposed himself, hoping that what Vegeta said was simply some Saiyan philosophy, having been spoken once from the mouth of some revered Saiyan philosopher. The idea was ludicrous, as he could hardly imagine one of these harsh brutes being able to think into matters, but Cargo could always hope. He decided that he would give Vegeta the benefit of the doubt, trying to push away the idea of cowards dying 'last', and replied, "The Grand Elder wants to see you." He had been a bit fidgety after losing Vegeta in the crowd, wanting to keep the Saiyan in sight at all times. So, of course, Cargo dutifully went out to retrieve him, glad to have found him causing no trouble.

Vegeta snorted but complied. He followed Cargo around the outer rim of the ring, noticing Namekians backing away as he approached them, creating a rippling effect. But this didn't disturb the Saiyan, as he was used to this distant treatment by now. After the number of populations he had obliterated, it was no wonder that he struck fear in most peoples' hearts. But only most. There were the ones that were already dead, like that foolish Kai, who believed they had the upper edge on the Saiyan Prince.

And, once again, he allowed the Kai to get to him, anxiety gnawing at his mind. King Kai was a fool, but he was clever, too. It had been his skill as a tactician that had, more than once, gotten Kakarrot out of dangerous situations. He could only hope that the Kai was becoming senile with age, not picking up on that hint of his return at the end of his threat. When he came back...

He huffed, allowing his chest to drop. That Kai had to have picked up on that hint, a slip of the prince's tongue. And if the Kai managed to get in touch with Kakarrot about such a matter, he knew that events could take a turn for the worse for him. That filthy Kakarrot might appear on this very planet using his Instant Transmission technique, ready to stop Vegeta in the midst of his plans. But Vegeta was relieved by something he had to fall back on, something he knew that Kakarrot couldn't possibly have: his tail.

His tail unfurled from around his waist a little as he continued moving through the crowd, finally stopping just feet away from Moori, who was leaning against his wooden cane. He cautiously observed the amicable smile on the Namekian's face as he noticed Vegeta, motioning for him to come closer. Vegeta obeyed, scrutinizing the scene for just why the Namekian looked to be in such fine spirits. But there was nothing he could see as he turned around, examining the crowd. Moori only looked up at the sky and remarked pleasantly, "The moon looks beautiful tonight."

Vegeta nodded, resisting the temptation to look up at it. He glanced towards Cargo, who was watching the pair of them, before commenting, "It looks just as every other moon does."

"Then why do you care so much about the Earth moon if they are all the same?"

The Saiyan frowned, focusing on a patch of dirt just before his shoes. Then, as he noticed the other elders also listening in on his response, he muttered, "The Earth moon is indeed special. It is the only satellite to the only planet now bearing Saiyans, other than myself, that is."

"And they will grow tails, too, if the Earth moon is restored?"

"Yes," Vegeta lied, knowing that he would give Kakarrot no chance to regrow his tail. "It is lonely, you see, to be the only Saiyan that is a full Saiyan. The others are only parts of who they used to be, and I believe they should be able to recuperate what honor they have left." Then, in the dignified voice of a prince, Vegeta continued, "My people are a proud people, and the lack of a tail is considered to be disgraceful. It is a symbol, visibly marking us from other races, and even proving to be of aid in times of peril." With a sardonic grin twisting his face, he turned to the Namekian and said, "I refuse to rule over a bunch of pitiful Saiyans. We must all be proud as we live on."

Worries were alleviated from his mind as he noticed the knowing smile on the Namekian's face as he faced him. "There is nothing quite like the pride of a noble race, now is there?" he asked, heaving deeply as his eyes darted up to the sky. But before he could continue on with this point, a figure appeared in the sky. He closed his heavy, green eyelids as he muttered, "I sense Lamaca's arrival."

And so he had come, the aged Namekian approaching them by flight as quickly as possible. He landed in front of the Grand Elder, the five-star in his hands, as he apologized, "Sorry, Grand Elder, for taking so long." He held the precious sphere out before him, and Moori only nodded in approval. With this small signal, the newcomer hurried to the center of the circle, setting his Dragon Ball down with the rest. And to the marvel of all the people, the Saiyan included, the balls began to glow faintly.

Then Vegeta couldn't help but simper triumphantly as a bulky dragon rose from the smoke, the sky darkening as it spread its large arms out before it. This had all seemed too easy, to simply be able to trick these Namekians into summoning the dragon. Now he could only hope that they would uphold their end of the bargain and more, noting that the clouds forming about the massive figure were sparse compared to those on Earth. He could see the moonlight shining down in random patches towards the horizon, a relieving sight. If these Namekians would only comply, everything might just work out.

Vegeta stared up into those bright, knowing eyes of Porunga's, taking a few paces back to behold the mighty creature. Those burning, red eyes would smolder soon, dying with this race of pathetic insects, all of their history, and even the Dragon Balls themselves. He knew that rubble would come of rubies.


	70. Saiyan Transformation

**I think I'm making it custom to thank you reviewers and readers at every chapter that's a multiple of ten. So thank you so much, everybody. =) And personally, as a small defense to my story, I think of this as a 'hate-on-everybody' fic, simply because nobody's perfect, and it's the flaws and emotions that make the characters who they are. Now on with the story, and enjoy.**

It was difficult for Vegeta to tear his eyes away from the dragon's towering form, its ruby eyes brightening the darkness it had brought with its appearance. Those bright, red eyes dazed the Saiyan, as amazing a sight to behold as it had been the first time he had seen a dragon. Shenron was impressive, but no dragon could compare to the mighty Porunga. The sheer energy it held was enough to force even the toughened Saiyan Prince back a step, almost stumbling over his own footing as he locked contact with the beast. The throng backed away from the monster as cries of delight rang from it. Some of the older Namekians cowered with the young hiding behind their legs, and Vegeta even noticed that Cargo fellow trembling slightly.

It was only Moori and a few other elders that stood planted in their places, gazing up confidently at the beast that was Porunga. Even as it bared its teeth into that gruesome smile, its broud snout tilted down threateningly at them all, those elder remained calm. Vegeta observed them, immediately ashamed for having been so moved by its presence. If this dragon was a gentle-hearted as it had been the last time he had seen it, the Saiyan knew that there would be nothing to fear.

He immediately regained his composure, standing a little ways to the side now from the group of elders. He folded his arms confidently across his chest as he eyed the monster, its claws extended in its pudgy hands. Then, with a voice that echoed across the vicinity, Porunga boomed, "What is it you wish for?" He peered down at Moori, whose presence was slight in the appearance of the dragon. But the old Namekian was not afraid as he he tilted his head up, leaning forth on his wooden cane.

His wrinkled hands were placed on steadily over one another, resting on the knob of wood adorning the top of the stick. And, with only a slight hesitation before his words, he began speaking in Namekian. He spoke rapidly at first, but towards the end of his request, he felt his throat choke up a little. Porunga continued to stare down at him, unimpressed as he hovered over them all. He slowly folded his scaly arms across his yellow chest as Moori finished.

"So you wish for Earth's moon to be restored?" it asked, its sharp teeth glinting maliciously. But Moori simply nodded, finding it difficult to find his voice again. Porunga kept his gaze steadily on the Namekian elder, not allowing anybody to detract his attention. So, with this small motion coming from the Namekian, the dragon stated, "It shall be done."

Nothing seemed to happen besides a faint glow radiating from his body, but Vegeta knew that the dragon was no liar. They certainly wouldn't be able to see the Earth moon from Namek, though he trusted Porunga. His red eyes showed power, yes, but there was a purity he held that kept him from tainting wishes. If Porunga said it, Vegeta knew that it was. The Saiyan smirked a little, hoping that it was still night on Earth. He hoped that Kakarot would enjoy his present until he could reach Earth himself - as of now, it looked as if it would take roughly a week to get there. His space ship was hopefully still sitting on the other side of the planet, with none of the wildlife here having bothered it.

He supposed that he could have requested the Namekian wish him to be transported there immediately, but he planned to do more to Earth than simply wipe out the Saiyans. No, after personally dealing with them, he would destroy the whole planet for the torturous memories it held in his mind. But he would have to escape, lest he get caught up in his own destruction, and he didn't trust those Earth ships. It was worth a small amount of time to make sure that he had a trusty ship to sail him far enough from that planet to assure that he wasn't destroyed, too. And that planet would be blown off the map, just as he was planning to do with this one if the Namekians refused to obey his demands. And Planet Vegeta would reign again.

"What is your next desire?" the dragon asked testily, a puff of smoke snorted from its nostrils.

As the dragon only had to listen to wishes in Namekian, Moori quickly switched to the universal language again to say, "Nothing, Porunga, as I think that will be-"

The crowd of gathered Namekians gasped at the next sight they were forced to behold, and that was the sight of their Grand Elder being dangled in the air in a two-hand grip around his fat neck. Vegeta had been swift, knowing that he had to stop the Namekian elder before he could call the dragon away. So, quite instinctively, he had lunged for the throat, giving the poor body a shake and abandoning all pretenses of peace.

Fear was the only way that he would be able to get this crowd to obey his whims, so he snarled, "Grant me my wishes, or I will kill you!"

And that was enough to instigate roars of fury from the crowd, forcing warriors from its edges to approach the Saiyan. But Vegeta was clever enough to swing Moori's body, losing consciousness very quickly, in front of the barrage of spears. The warriors halted their attack, the points of their weapons just inches in front of the Namekian's fleshy body. There were screams of distraught from the surge of Namekians, now scattering in panic. This Saiyan, the one who had seemed to change for the better, was indeed the same man who had destroyed a whole village so many years ago. Now he was about to do more than that - he seemed prepared to destroy all of their hope, destroying the creator of the Dragon Balls.

Cargo watched this conflict between the Saiyan and their soldiers, and he quickly yanked one of them from the back by their shirt. The soldier yelped in shock, pointing his spear defensively at Cargo's face before realizing that he was no enemy. He dropped his weapon as Cargo muttered into his ear, his eyes darting up towards the Grand Elder's pitiful figure every few seconds, "Destroy Vegeta's ship. I know he came in one - I saw something in the sky earlier this afternoon. It could be anywhere on the planet, but you have to destroy it."

The soldier nodded quickly, a few other listening warriors following his lead as he kicked off the ground in flight. And Cargo watched them only briefly, hearing Vegeta bark, "Tell the dragon to grant my other wishes! I wish for Vegeta to be restored, and I wish for all of my people to be reborn! Do it!"

Porunga looked down at the scene, powerless to do anything. He certainly didn't want Moori killed, or he would die, too. But as an eternal dragon, he could only act upon a wish. So he set his massive jaw in place, staring down at the tiny Saiyan below him. And that Saiyan was quickly becoming frustrated. He didn't want Moori to pass out either, not before he could get his wishes granted. So he loosened his deadly grip around the elder's neck, screaming, "If you don't make my wishes right now, I'm going to stamp out all of you pathetic people! It won't just be your leader who dies!"

Some of the Namekian warriors decided to advance, attempting to sneak up on the Saiyan. But he could hear them easily, simply turning around to hold his bait before their weapons, making them back off immediately. No, the problem was not that he had to play this stupid game with these stubborn people. It was that his bait only had so much life left in him, and this game certainly wasn't helping him live any longer. It looked as though he would have to bring out his biggest weapon, one that he had intended to use for this purpose.

He dropped Moori, quickly abandoning his almost unconscious body to soar up into the air. He noticed some Namekian warriors retreating, though that was of no concern to him. He flew up to the sky, breaking through the cloud layer eagerly with Namekians at his feet, some staying low to tend to their leader. But as he broke through those dark clouds having formed in Porunga's appearance, he laughed triumphantly. His chest shuddered with the happiness in him as he thrust his head up, opening his eyes to allow absorption of the moon's rays.

Many of the Namekians took a direct assault, plunging towards him with spears in hand. But he ignored all of these jabs at him, ignored the rips in his armor and the minor cuts in his skin. His body began convulsing slightly as his eyes glinted red, that maniacal grin on his face all the while. This was glory. This was triumph, he knew, feeling bristly hairs sprout from each pore, creating a shaggy mane that covered him. His skull twisted, his hands gnarled, though he wasn't shallow as to care about physical appearances, especially when it was his people, his pride, at stake.

His allies would be revived, as would his planet, he knew as he made that magnificent change from man to monkey. The thudding of his heart told him as much, his breathing slowing down as he allowed the beast to overtake his body.


	71. Unheard Of

**I would say 'enjoy' as I usually do, but this ain't the most enjoyable of chapters, or at least from a Namekian's standpoint.**

The six standing Namekian elders clustered around Moori's fallen body, his cane laying limply in his hand. One of them kneeled down and shook him fiercely, trying to restore his breath, but he was too far from consciousness to respond. Lamaca grimaced as he stared up at the dragon, regretting having brought that last Dragon Ball, as all of the elders were at that moment. It seemed foolish that they had believed the Saiyan would mean no harm and be contented with only one wish being granted. If only they could have remembered the last time they had dealt with his breed, they could have avoided this whole mess. The Grand Elder would not be close to death on the ground, barely able to formulate thoughts in that mind of his. But they had decided to follow the route of another Saiyan, to show undeserved compassion and mercy.

Lamaca placed his hand up to his wrinkled forehead, staring up at Porunga, who was waiting there expectantly. That was it - they could wish for the Saiyan to disappear. There was nothing preventing him from running up to the dragon to declare his wish, nothing to keep him from sending that monster away. And then, with their final wish, the could wish for all to be restored. Or they could wish away that first wish, that first wish bringing back Earth's moon. Though it seemed harmless, Lamaca could only wonder now what evil intentions the Saiyan had had by it.

He lifted his skirts a little, allowing his stick legs to show as he darted through the confusion. But to his misfortune, he didn't see one of the spears falling from the cloud layer. It was a pitiful toy to a Saiyan, but to a Namekian, it was deadly at best. He glanced up, twisting his torso around to see it. And his old eyes widened, unable to react quickly enough to move away from the spear's aim. No, he stopped his run, his breathing bated, as he watched it descend quickly.

And then he fell lifelessly to the ground, the spear having punctured his heart.

Nobody paid attention to the fallen elder, focused on a far larger problem. Even Porunga could only watch as a shower of spears cascaded from the heavens above, causing panic to spread even further. And as they scattered, leaving the dragon to simply watch the turmoil placidly, his snout twitching with slight fear, they took no notice of something breaking through the cloud layer. They were too preoccupied with the spears being thrown down by their own Namekian warriors, targetting something growing above the grey clouds, not visible to the Namekians on the ground.

Some of the warriors that had stayed back on the ground, not chasing Vegeta upwards or hunting down his ship, were the first to point to the sky, the barrage of spears having already been thrown. Cargo lifted his arm to his forehead protectively, looking to see just what they were so anxious about, backing away. Namekians were fearless and loyal. What could have them so worked up?

But then Cargo saw what they were pointing at, and he stumbled back, landing on his rear end. Something was falling, something huge, and it landed only a few feet right before him, right over the elders with its legs spread out so that it crushed a few of them, but not the Grand Elder.

Cargo's mouth fell open in awe as he bobbed his head, his eyes finally landing on those blood-red eyes of it. Then the thing stared down at him, snorting pure rage before looking up to the cloudy sky, looking up to Porunga, and triumphantly beating its fists against its massive chest.

It was a monkey, ready to rip apart the Namekian way of life, and a giant one at that.

* * *

Hercule walked out into the garden. He had been on his way to bed before he had remembered that he had left his family album out on that large expanse of yard. He could look at a few pictures from his childhood before drifting off into a deep sleep, because that was just what he needed. After having to deal with Videl's worries all night, he needed rest. He hoped that she gave Gohan a good yelling match, but for some reason, he thought that the showdown would have to wait for the morning.

He chuckled slightly as he opened the door, his eyes immediately falling upon Pan and Buu, who were both laying on the grass a few feet from each other. Buu was simply sprawled out on his back, his pink chest heaving as he slept peacefully, but Pan was curled up into a ball on her side. She had even kicked her shoes off, which were laying just a little ways away from her dormant body. He walked up to the two, his fists resting on his hips as he stopped before them. Then he stooped down, easily picking Pan up in his arms, leaving Buu there. It didn't matter that the blob had chosen to fall asleep on the grass - he was a tough one. But Pan needed somebody to keep her civilized, and something told him that it was his job to do so.

He bent down to also retrieve the album, sticking it in the crook of his hairy arm before heading back inside. He gave a last glance towards the peaceful Buu and sighed before flicking the light switch off, taking no notice of a tiny crescent above the mansion.

He carried Pan up the stairs, up to her room on the third floor as her orange bandana fell into her eyes. He took it out of her hair completely, keeping it in his grip as he passed by his daughter's room. And the oppurtunity was just too tempting to pass up, so he pressed his ear nosily against his daughter's door. He only heard the shower still running in her bathroom, and an awfully long shower at that.

The man kept moving down the corridor, not encountering anybody at this late hour. He walked down the main corridor, and one at the other side, he opened the door second to the end. Then he opened the door, walking into Pan's bedroom for the first time in several months.

He was surprised that she had abandoned most of the unicorn decorations that had haunted this room since she was five-years-old. After the room flooded with light, Hercule could see posters of rather frightening bands covering up her walls. And her bed was not the same, rosy pink that he had remembered it had been so long ago, instead being black. Hercule glanced down at the small girl in his arms, surprised. Who knew that his granddaughter would turn out to be such a punk? Or rather, such a delinquent, as he was sure her grandmother had to have called her every time she visited.

He placed the girl gently on the blood-red bedding, wondering just what other changes had taken place in his six months confined to bedrest. There must have been a lot of small ones that nobody found important enough to tell him, and Hercule would find out about those in the morning. But now, he simply wanted to fall asleep, to fall into a deep slumber.

He yawned loudly, cupping his hairy hand to his large mouth. He turned his back towards his little granddaughter, the only one he would probably ever have, he thought wistfully. But before he turned out the light, he heard Pan stir behind him, twisting around on the bed. He watched her for a moment before asking gently, "Pan?"

"Grandpa?" Pan asked wearily, stretching her small self out and grabbing the covers. She wiggled her toes through her socks as she tossed her blanket over herself, curling up into a ball once more. Then she sighed slightly, her eyes just barely open as she watched her grandfather return to her side. "You want to know something?"

Hercule nodded his head, kneeling down by her side. "Sure, Pan," he said, glad that she wasn't worrying about her father. He knew that she would immediately want to see him to assure he was safe, though Hercule couldn't be so certain that he would want to see her - not at this hour.

"Buu's pretty fun," she said, turning to her side.

"Now is he?" Hercule asked, surprised. He had wondered what they had been doing out there, but he was certain that they were simply playing a game of sorts. Buu was just a big kid, never going to grow up. Sometimes Hercule wished he could be like that.

Pan affirmed his suspicion, explaining this thing called the 'Moon Game' to her grandfather in a drowsy voice. It wasn't long before she couldn't go on, drifting off into deep sleep within only a matter of minutes, and in mid-sentence, too. Then Hercule bent down and pecked his granddaughter on the forehead, seeing a twitch out of her nose with his scratchy stubble having rubbed up against her sensitve face. Then he stood back up and left, his album still tucked under his arm.

It was a ridiculous idea, most certainly. Men couldn't turn into giant monkeys that destroyed civilizations with ease.


	72. Banished to Elsewhere

**Very short, but very dense chapter. Hope it's not too fast! Enjoy!**

Cries of panic intensified at the giant ape's appearance. Cargo could only sit rooted to the spot, moving his eyes from the monkey's glowing eyes to its hairy body. And then a sudden realization struck him. As he stared up at that Saiyan, examining it only a few feet away from its massive feet, his heart skipped a thud. It was wearing armor, and it had a long, furry tail, one that had been talked of only earlier that day.

Cargo's bottom lip quivered as he looked on in horror. This ape was Vegeta.

The elders huddled underneath the Saiyan's thick legs yelled in anguish, or at least those that hadn't been stepped upon. There was purple blood now pooling at the monkey's feet, bodies too mangled to regenerate as Namekians could. One of the elders, a younger one by the name of Racol, gripped Moori closer to his side, knowing that it was vital that he live. He was their only chance of getting out of this mess, the elder realized as he turned his gaze from the beast's swishing tail to Porunga's looming figure, powerless to act. His thoughts ran along the lines of Lamaca's, and he quickly hopped up to his feet, dragging Moori's heavy body with him.

But Vegeta was far too clever to allow the Namekian to get to Porunga. He reached down, picking up both Racol and Moori in one hand, keeping them tightly in his grip. The monkey bared his teeth, the elder in his grasp immobilized by fear as he was brought closer to those gleaming teeth. He stared in horror as Vegeta's rancid breath diffused through the dark of night, forced to hold his breath as the giant creature boomed, "Grant me my wishes!"

Porunga had his arms crossed against his chest, still twice as tall as Vegeta. But the dragon was certainly impressed - it had never seen such a thing before. It wasn't its place, however, to speak, as it could only speak when spoken to. So it hovered over the ground, forced to only leer down at what was happening. None of the Namekians even thought to have the dragon simply wish the ape away, as blinded by confusion as they were. Porunga could only stand there, his broad, green shoulders tensing slightly with worry. This ape may have been impressive, but he could tell it was evil.

Vegeta shook the two Namekians in his hand, their heads bobbing back and forth helplessly as he did so. Then he brought them up to his narrowed, red eyes, ignoring the spears being thrown at his thick hide, and demanded in his deep, scratchy voice, "Have the dragon grant me my wishes!" He was anxious, seeing Moori's limp figure in his grasp. But he was too overcome by anger to treat the Namekian elder more gently. He could barely contain himself from squeezing his fist, squeezing the life out of the Namekian who was actually able to talk. But the elder in his hand refused to say a word, whether by will or fear.

The ape pressed his lips together, his snout scrunched up. Cargo watched in awe at the spectacle, finally able to scamper backwards before Vegeta stepped forth, placing his giant foot where the Namekian had previously been laying. He stood up on his wobbly knees, now only concentrating on his own escape. But as he looked up once more, now on a hill a little ways away, he heard a voice shoot through his head. It was in the Namek language, coming from Racol, who was stuck in Vegeta's clutches. "Wish for his death," it roughly translated to, and Cargo could only smile incredulously at this idea.

Now at a higher elevation, he could see the battle. The sky was dark, Porunga's massive, glowing figure being the only thing to shed light upon the situation, other than some tiny torches lit up at the base of the valley. There were spears being tossed around blindly, his people scattering in as many directions as possible, some coming towards him, some retreating. Cargo set his jaw in place, wondering if it was really that easy. Could he be the one to save his Namekian race by simply wishing the thing, Vegeta's, death upon him?

With a second wind of courage, Cargo sped back down the hill, pushing past the masses. He leapt over pools of purple blood, the faces of his friends lying in them. He ignored them, focused only on Porunga. He had to get to the dragon before Vegeta realized just what he was going to do.

Cargo easily avoided the Saiyan's stomps of destruction, small displays of what would happen to the entire population of the planet. He cringed as Vegeta stepped on the group of elders underneath him, trying to show the consequences of not obeying a Saiyan Prince. But what really stopped Cargo in his tracks was one of the elders, Lamaca, laying right before him, a spear dug through his chest. He caught his breath, pressing his hand against his chest in shock at the sight. This wasn't Vegeta who killed this elder. It was another Namekian.

Cargo gulped, unable to believe that the tyrant had been able to get his kind to start killing one another. But he had no chance to mourn, glancing back to see that the Saiyan was becoming more impatient. He about hopped around, showing the two Namekians in his grasp just what he could do. Cargo's eyes were not good enough to see how Racol was faring, but he knew that he couldn't possibly have much life left. It surprised Cargo that even Moori was still clearly conscious, seeing as the dragon hadn't vanished.

That only reminded the younger Namekian of the urgency that he get to Porunga. So after darting across a clear field, just under the dragon, Cargo stopped. Porunga stared curiously down at the brave Namekian, who yelled out his request for Vegeta to be killed. But, to his misfortune, nothing could be that simple.

"Your wish cannot be granted," Porunga boomed, and Cargo's shoulders shrank. He had forgotten - the dragons were created so that they explicately could not kill. Nothing beyond the creator's power, and he was sure that Guru, the original creator of these dragon balls, didn't have the power vested in him to destroy a giant ape so easily. But that was the least of his worries, as he noticed the dragon's voice having drawn Vegeta's attention.

Vegeta spun around, two limp elders in his grasp as he clenched his sharp teeth. Somebody had just wished for something under his nose, and he had a good feeling that it wasn't a wish that he wanted granted. He snarled in disgust, searching for the offender, only to find that lanky Namekian boy being the perpetrator. The Saiyan dropped both Racol and Moori, letting them fall to the soft dirt, though a painful fall nevertheless. Racol's life force had vanished, as had the rest of the elders', though Moori was somehow still hanging on. He had a pulse, one that would only last a few more seconds.

Cargo's eyes widened, seeing the Saiyan charge towards him viciously. His canine teeth were bared as he began galloping, using his arms now to gain more speed, his muscular shoulders pushing back with each leap. He froze there uncertainly, unable to conjure up a thought in his mind. And all of the sudden, with his voice cracking as he saw Vegeta make a final pounce, he yelled in Namekian for the Saiyan to be wished away to a very far place.

And without confirmation, Porunga simply stated, his voice calm, "It shall be done."

Vegeta's target quickly switched from the Namekian boy to the dragon in mid-leap. He latched on to the dragon, his giant monkey hands tearing him apart from limb to limb, the dragon screaming with pain as Vegeta dug a hole through his chest with his claws. But before Vegeta could finish the dragon off and kill him, he felt the insides of his body compress. He writhed and bellowed with pain, with fury, as he felt his being cease to exist on this planet, being transported to another. And so quickly, with a wish, Vegeta was gone from Planet Namek, all at the cost of its people.


	73. An Individual's Impact

**Another short one, but enjoy!**

Namek was ruined.

The first and foremost problem that Cargo could see was the dragon. After that giant monkey, Vegeta, had jumped on top of him, he had proceeded to rip the creature to shreds, scaring the Namekian. He feared that the dragon wouldn't be able to grant this wish, but to his relief, Porunga pulled through. Even with deep claw marks across its yellow chest, its arms so maimed that all the Namekian could make out was a deep red, one darker than its eyes, Porunga had managed to save its creators people.

Unfortunately, Porunga hadn't been able to save itself.

Cargo watched in horror, the temporary alleviation of his heart coming to a sudden end. Because there was Porunga, mighty Porunga, the seemingly invincible dragon with its large, muscular arms and pointed snout, its spikes on its head gleaming with the faint glow it gave off. But he disappeared. Right before the Namekian's eyes, just after the Saiyan had vanished, Porunga had withered away into nothingness, his massive figure shrinking down, back into the Dragon Balls. And then, something else happened. The balls were dark spheres, stony and lackluster. They were inert.

His green lips parted as he stared at them, edging closer carefully. He had never seen them so dull. He gulped, ignoring the few Namekians that had returned in curiosity, now hovering around him, and knelt down to the grassy valley floor. He scooped two of the balls up in his arms, turning towards the sky curiously, anxiously. The dark clouds had parted, revealing the moon's bright, innocent light to shine upon them. But even the stony orbs didn't reflect the moon's light.

Cargo dropped them, heavy as they were. Then he patted down the front of his white shirt, looking up at the sky in wonder. How had Vegeta resumed such a magnificent transformation? It seemed impossible, unless he had taken up magic. But Namekians were powerful magicians, and to have pulled off something so incredible from under their eyes was an astounding feat. He could only wonder, though. Now that Vegeta was gone, there was nobody to tell them of how he had done such a thing. If Namekians were capable of transforming into apes, they would be able to better defend their planet. But then, he supposed, they wouldn't be a peaceful race. No, sometimes a lack of power proved to be a good thing.

But he was snapped out of his musings as he heard cries, aghast by some sight, resounding from a crowd. He whipped his head back, only to remember that Vegeta had trampled all of the elder, all of them except two who had been within his tight grip. But even then, they may have been crushed. Cargo couldn't moved, paralyzed by fear of what he might find. He had already seen so many of his kind dead, he couldn't imagine any of the elder's faces, and especially not Moori's.

He ambled towards the throng of ten Namekians crowded around the elders, being in no hurry to get to them himself. He shook his head, dismayed by the lack of Namekians. What had just been a population of just over a hundred was no depleted to only eighty, seeing as most of the Namekians had decided to stay in their home villages, staying away from the danger. But there were few survivors in this village, the main village, which had housed almost a third of the population. The race was dying, and he knew that the only way to aid the race would be to reproduce. But Cargo cringed at such a thought, wondering just how a Namekian was able to even procure an egg. He had seen Guru do so several times before, but only a few of the Namekians were able to do such a thing, and they did so very slowly.

Cargo slumped his shoulder, knowing that it would be his duty to also aid in the repopulation of the planet. He was surely old enough to do so, though the thought was slightly repulsing. He knew that newborn Namekians were extremely independent, but the birth itself was what scared him. To have his neck dilate so much as to allow the hard egg to travel up his neck, a great deal of saliva created as to help move the egg along, did not appeal to him in the slightest. And he also didn't fancy the idea of becoming a mother.

Cargo bit his lower lip nervously as he approached the crowd, parting slightly so that he could look. And he certainly did not like what he saw, with mutilated elders bathing in their own purple blood. But he stepped around them, ignoring the sight of Lamaca with that spear struck through him, and moved towards the stiff bodies of the Grand Elder and Racol. He stopped a few feet before them, uncertain if he could move on, though he felt a nudge to his back. Without even acknowledging who had pushed him forward, he tumbled towards the two, kneeling with respect before them. He wasn't sure if they were dead, but he didn't want to be the first one to find out the devastating news if they were. He wanted somebody else to endure the pain first.

And as if his wish had been granted, another Namekian nearby approached the two unconscious elders. He was an older Namekian, a man just past his prime, and he quickly turned Moori onto his back. Cargo immediately sighed with relief, seeing the Grand Elder's face still intact. But his ribcage still shuddered as he watched that Namekian lower his ear against Moori's chest. His worries were immediately mitigated as the Namekian looked up, a smile on his face. He could feel a faint heartbeat.

He shifted to Racol, giving a small nod, a bitter smile on his face as he did so. But Cargo was too overjoyed that the Grand Elder had survived to pay much attention to the news of the other elder. Now Moori could mend the dragon and everything could be repaired, restored, Cargo thought as he watched a warrior pick up Moori, the two of them heaving as they carried the two elders to the domed hut in the center. All of their problems would be fixed.

* * *

Bulla entered the kitchen, soaking to her skin and bones. She shivered, quickly shrugging off her coat and kicking off her rain boots. It was late - about midnight. She had been unsuccessful in her quest to find her step-father, but at that moment, she didn't care. She simply needed to get something warm in her.

She quickly set the kettle on the stove, left to only wait for the water to reach a frothing boil. So she pulled up a seat to the sitting table, awaiting her hot water as she impatiently drummed her fingers against the wood. Her hair was ruined, as were her pants. She had accidentally walked through a large puddle of mud in the dark of the storm, her arms protectively over her head, as if they could protect her from the lightening streaking across the sky above. It had been curious that day, with that earthquake earlier and now this sudden storm. She wondered if the latter could have also been caused by that Saiyan, Goku's, presence.

Before her mind could delve into further thought, wondering if that guy had changed from the man in those pictures with her father, her small nose twitched. She gave the air a sniff, sitting upright again, to smell something peculiar. Her mother had explained once why she had such a sensitive nose, saying that it was due to her Saiyan heritage. She had gotten used to strange smells, but there was something rather odd about this one. It didn't have a very good scent to it, feeling muddled and grimy, but then she realized that she recognized it.

It was Yamcha's sweat that she could feel, but it wasn't the sweat from after an intense workout, something he had stopped doing years ago. No, this was something that she only smelled whenever her mother was in the room, yelling at him, or if he was losing badly at a game of cards. It was the smell of sweat that came from anxiety, the smell of sweaty palms.

So that was what fear smelled like.

She scrunched her nose up, trying to block the smell from entering. But the smell pervaded her senses, and it got to be so bad that she finally decided that she would just turn the stove off and go to bed. As she headed down the hallway, she could only wonder one thing. What had her step-father so scared?


	74. Complications of Never

**Thank you so much, amazing readers, for 100 reviews! It's been glorious writing this story, and I'm afraid that we're only just getting started! Enjoy this chapter, and don't worry too much. Everything will (hopefully) work out for the better.**

Before even opening his eyes, Vegeta moved his gloved hands across his face, trying to tell whether he was still a monkey or not. But as he patted his cheeks a little, feeling the tenderness of a face that could never grow hair, he deduced that he was human. And it was with this that he dropped his hand to his chest, blinking his eyes open slowly, so slowly. The air was a blinding yellow, one large sun filling the sky. He twisted his head, seeing nothing but red dirt, cracked from the intense heat. He scowled a little as he sat up, realizing that his back was sweating, even through his suit. The earth of wherever he had appeared was burning hot, though not intense enough to singe his clothing.

He blinked wearily before hopping up, getting himself off of the sizzling ground. Then, in a manner that only a trained Saiyan warrior could do, he cleared his mind of conscious needs. He wanted water, his mouth parched, though he ignored this need, just as he was forced to push aside the need of something too cool him off. The air was so bright here, bronze dust drifting along, getting caught in his dry throat. He bent over and coughed, holding a hand to his stomach. Then, after clearing his lungs of all particles, he stood up straight once more. He turned his head around, wincing as he saw nothing. The terrain was a flat expanse of nothingness, no vegetation, no buildings, no civilization whatsoever.

Vegeta cursed his fate, cursing the dragon for sending him to such a desolate place. He wasn't sure of exactly what that runt had wished for, but he would be certain to make him pay. He had been so close to getting his wishes, only to have his plan fall apart at its few fragile seams. He kicked at the red ground, stirring up a billow of dust that only had him coughing once more. That dragon would pay, as would the runt and the rest of that pathetic civilization. His hopes were dead now - there was no chance of him getting to Earth if he had no idea of where he even was.

The Saiyan walked aimlessly in one direction, too fatigued to go up into the air and search. He simply didn't care anymore. It was all hopeless. There was no chance of anybody being able to live on a planet as barren as this one, and he had no space pod to travel to another planet. No, it was sickening, the Prince of Saiyans being reduced to such a pitiful death. He would die of starvation, of thirst before finding anything. Vegeta shook his head, gritting his teeth. He had made a gamble with those last actions, turning into a Great Ape. It had been foolish, in retrospect. He had had nothing to prevent those bugs from crushing him with the same wishes he had desired, the same wishes he would have given anything for. And now he had a death sentence printed across his head, a pitiful day for the Saiyan Prince.

With a gloved hand placed over his eyes to provide them solace from the sun's rays, he trekked on despondently. He could only hope that he had managed to do damage to that one, last civilization before going. He had torn Porunga up, he knew, but he wasn't sure of whether or not eternal dragons could die or not. They were eternal for a reason, though it had still been satisfying, being able to tear its arms up, shredding its chest into bits. That was certainly something he couldn't regret, though he did wish that he had just finished off Moori along with the dragon. It would have been so satisfying to have been able to see the terror in the old bug's eyes, to have the thing cry out desperately for his life. And Vegeta even had him in his grip, so able to crush him. But it was too late now.

Vegeta huffed, deciding that it would not be best to mourn over what couldn't be changed. For all he knew, with the pitiful physical shape the Grand Elder was in, he might just have crushed him. And then the Dragon Balls would be proven inert, unable to restore their population. But that truly didn't matter. What did matter was getting off of this planet and getting to Earth, utilising that one wish for a moon. But the situation seemed utterly hopeless, because as far as Vegeta traveled, he could not find a single living thing. This planet was dead, as far as he was concerned.

It was with one final sigh that Vegeta stopped dragging his boots along the red dirt, staring down at the cracks lined in this planet. He took one last glance up at the blazing sun and its accursed rays before kneeling down, deciding that this would be as good a place as any to die. There was no chance of him surviving this, not without transporation or communication. And he would never be desperate enough to trying calling upon that King Kai fellow for help, probably having Kakarot sent to rescue him. No, he would never allow Kakarot to save him again. He was too noble for such a thing, to be saved by a low-class warrior.

Vegeta yawned before laying face-flat upon the red dirt, his cheek pressed against the burning ground. But he did not care as his face burned, his tail giving one last pathetic swish before falling down in a ring on the red earth. He would never be rescued by Kakarot again, he vowed as he laid down that final time and welcomed death. Never.

* * *

Cargo waited outside of the elder's hut patiently, lurking by the door. He stared up at the cleared sky, his eyes widening as he took in the simple beauty of the moon. It was far better to distract himself by looking up at the moon than to look at the fields, to see the dead bodies, not even distinguishable anymore, piled up. The warriors set about the task of finding dead soldiers in those fields, in the warzone. He sighed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. That morning had seemed as any other morning, no impending doom having been foreshadowed. No, it had been quite sudden, Vegeta's arrival. And it had been quite sudden, the switch from acquaintance to enemy. It was only Vegeta that had ever caught Moori off-guard in such a way, though Cargo could only be thankful that the Grand Elder had survived. They would be able to recreate the Dragon Balls and summon Porunga to bring back the lives of all those lost.

The Namekian crossed his arms as he saw three figures approaching in the sky, wondering just who they were. But as they came closer, he remembered them as being the warriors he had ordered to destroy Vegeta's ship. Cargo waved his arms, signaling for them to come down with a jubilant smile on his face for the first time that night. From the smug expressions on their faces, he assumed that they had been successful.

And he was right to assume as much. One of the warriors landed before him, saying, "We did it."

"Yup!"

"Sure did!"

Cargo smirked as the other two chirped approval behind the first one, assuming that they hadn't looked over the battle field yet. But he wouldn't bring down their triumph so quickly, instead praising them, "Good job." The ship wasn't a real concern now that Vegeta was gone, though it was still comforting all the while. It was the final piece of that Saiyan gone from that planet, his presence having vanished other than the catastrophic impact he had left on the Namekian race. And the group of warriors seemed to notice this as they turned their heads around, staring in awe at what had once been a healthy population.

"What happened?"

"Where's the monkey?"

The last one was silent, unable to get words out of his mouth as he ran towards the edge of the village, getting a better view of the pasture that they had summoned Porunga. Cargo's face simply fell as he folded his arms again in a manner so like the Saiyan in question, explaining, "The monkey was Vegeta." The two remaining had their mouths fall open at such a revelation, having not connected the two as they weren't a very bright bunch. "He was trying to force final wishes out of the Grand Elder, and so I decided to use Porunga to wish him away."

"Way to go!"

"Good thinking!"

But their enthusiasm was not shared by Cargo, who sighed, "It's not all good news. Several of the elders were... trampled by Vegeta. And he killed the dragon." There was a slight pause in his narration of the events, seeing their faces fall at such news, such unbelievable news. The dragon was considered to be eternal. Could something eternal fall? But before they could add their own commentary, Cargo continued, "The Grand Elder's still alive, though, so I think Porunga can be revived." Or so he hoped.

There was silence as the warrior that seemed to be in charge bobbed his head, trying to absorb this information. Then he said, "I think I'll go check it out."

"Me, too."

And Cargo nodded, watching as they ran to catch up with their other friend. They were certainly younger than he was, obviously not understanding exactly what had happened. But Cargo had seen enough in his life, especially after Frieza's days of tyranny on the planet, to know that this was a serious matter. Not everything could be mended easily, as much as he wished it could. There were some things that were irreversible, and though he certainly though that the Grand Elder would be able to restore Porunga to his power, there was a small doubt that rested inside. Something told him that bringing back the lost Namekian population would not be as simple as a wish, as things were never that easy. Never.


	75. Conflict in Confidence

**Wowza. Crazy long chapter as far as my chapters go, my apologies. I would have split it but... this seems like an appropriate ending to this segment of the story. I can proudly call this the end of 'Act One', if this is to be told in acts. Enjoy.**

Cargo stood outside of the hut for only a short amount of time, awaiting news of the Grand Elder's condition. He was curious to see whether the three warriors would return and give their sentiments on the matters at hand, but he was left standing there. They did not return before another Namekian exited the hut. He had an expression of relief, though he seemed too flustered to speak. This Namekian, the same Namekian to have carried Moori off of the bloodied hills, simply signaled for Cargo to come in. Cargo nodded, closing the red door behind him as he made his way inside.

His eyes immediately fell upon the Grand Elder, who was propped up in his throne and flanked on either side by several anxious Namekians. His green face was flushed from fear more than damage. He had escaped with relatively few injuries, only having endured some scratches and minor bruises only across his arms and legs that peeked out from under the white robe he wore. But Cargo focused in on Moori's wrinkled face, seeing the discomfort in the way that his lower lip twitched, his cheeks sagged, and even his eyes drooped. Moori winced slightly as a Namekian by his side pressed a hot rag on his flabby, wounded arm, finally turning his attention to the thin Namekian standing in the doorway, looking intensely at him. And as he noticed Cargo, he allowed a tiny smile to form, a wistful one that dreamt of better days.

"Cargo," he addressed the Namekian who was now kneeling before him. His voice shuddered as he placed a shaking hand slowly upon the rag that the Namekian by his side had left there, the heat now comforting to his throbbing muscle. The thin Namekian nodded, standing back up to his feet as Moori murmured, "Thank you."

"It was nothing, Grand Elder," Cargo quickly replied, embarrassed by this recognition as everybody turned to him, to see exactly who Moori was thanking during such a desolate time. Even Racol, who he noticed was lying down on a cot pushed towards the edge of the circular room, had twisted his neck painfully to get a better look at this boy, now a man. Nobody was sure of what had happened for him to have deserved such praise, but it was indeed well received.

Moori managed a throaty chuckle, a grimace twisting his facial features. Everybody watched him curiously as he said, "It was everything, and you know it." Then, with his lips trembling, he managed a proud smile "I knew you would amount to something, Cargo, and I must thank you. Without you, we might not all be here as of now." And he hacked, his throat clearing of a thick mucus, calling for one of the Namekians to hold a glass of water up to his lips. Moori gripped his feeble hand around the glass, taking it in one chug before handing it back to the man who had handed it to him. Then he licked his dry lips, murmuring once more, this time rather sleepily, "Thank you for saving us."

He closed his eyes, one of the Namekians beginning to push Cargo out of the door again so that the Grand Elder could sleep and restore his health. But Cargo wasn't done yet, not when he had so many questions to ask. He ignored this dismissal, even though it had been directly from Moori himself, and demanded, "Wait." Moori's eyes fluttered open as the focused on the thin Namekian standing before him, asking for his counsel even after he had so explicitly been excused. But Moori simply watched as Cargo asked tentatively, "You... you will be able to restore the Dragon Balls, won't you?"

Moori's droopy eyes looked up to the brave Namekian standing before him, acknowledging the concern in his voice. But Moori couldn't alleviate his worries. Cargo could tell the news would be bad the second the Grand Elder opened his mouth, explaining slowly, wheezing between sentences, "Cargo, it is impossible that I restore the Dragon Balls. I am not the original creator, and I lack the magic to create new ones. Without the dragon model, there is nothing that I can do." He noticed Cargo's eyes brighten, clearly about to inquire if he could restore the dragon balls if they managed to find that model, but Moori was a step ahead. He answered the unasked question, "There is no dragon model anymore. It was destroyed with our old planet. And even if we did have a model, I lack the magical prowess to recreate Porunga."

Cargo's shoulders fell in disappointment at this new information, but before he could express his worry, he noticed Moori fidget uncomfortably in his throne. It was then that the thin Namekian noticed that the Grand Elder had a silky, red scarf wrapped around his neck, one that he tugged at. He groaned with pain as he pulled the tightly-wound cloth so that it was more loosely placed around his neck, revealing a small portion of the hand-shaped bruises on his neck from where Vegeta had held him up, knocking the wind out of him. Cargo could only gasp lightly, seeing the dark mark, but Moori waved away his awe with a drop of his hand from the scarf.

"It's nothing, it's nothing," Moori insisted in an attempt to ease Cargo's qualms, to prevent him from regretting ever having tried befriending the Saiyan who had inflicted such bruises on the Grand Elder. Cargo quickly recomposed himself, nodding in an attempt to hide his anger as the elder continued, "There are more important matters to be dealt with, such as this business with the Dragon Balls. A question that must be first considered is whether or not we even want the Dragon Balls anymore."

One of the Namekians dropped the hot rag in his hands at such a suggestion, another fumbling with the empty glass of water. Racol narrowed his eyes suspiciously, finally speaking up as he asked, "What do you mean by that, Grand Elder?" Everybody turned towards the Namekian laying on the cot, his voice stern but concerned.

Moori managed a tiny simper at the Racol's distraught, calming his friend down by saying in a strengthened voice, "I mean nothing bad of the suggestion, it simply is what it is, Racol. You must be able to imagine just what troubles the Dragon Balls have caused our people, this being the second time they have brought destruction."

"But they have also brought our civilization peace, as they have others," Racol argued, determined to present the magical spheres in the positive light they deserved. "Without them, we wouldn't have this planet, and Earth wouldn't be intact. And where would we be then?" The fire in his speech surprised everybody, coming from an old and injured Namekian. But Racol could certainly be a force when he was set on something, a more stubborn Namekian in such a peaceful race.

Moori nodded, murmuring, "It was only a suggestion, Racol. I meant no offense by it." And though the other elder's logic made sense, Moori couldn't help but feel that the planet would be better off without them. He knew that Guru, ancient Guru, had created them for times of disorder, times of chaos in attempts to restore Namek to its former beauty. Moori was more hesitant than his predecessor, uncertain of its powers. But that night was not a time to talk of such matters, something he hinted as he said, "I shall think over it, as I hope the rest of you will. But as of now, I must rest." And to put an abrupt end to this dispute, he shut his eyes.

Cargo eyed Racol with interest as he turned his head over, also drifting off into sleep. Then he allowed one of the Namkians to guide him out of the domed hut, leaving without a farewell. He would spend that night wondering just what the Grand Elder had meant by suggesting not ever restoring the Dragon Balls. It was ridiculous - the Dragon Balls were necessary in case of emergency. To destroy them would be to destroy Namek, though he couldn't help but ponder over what Moori had said about those mysterious orbs actually bringing destruction to the planet. That was true, too, unfortunately.

He stared up at the moon, standing right outside of the hut as he kept his eyes off of the battle field. There was much to be considered that night, Cargo not even having brought up the ideas of eggs and repopulation to the Grand Elder. That would have to wait until he had healed some after his encounter with the Saiyan, and Cargo could only wonder then just what had happened to Vegeta. It was against his character to wish anything terrible upon the Saiyan, but at the same time, he couldn't help but regret ever having aided such a despicable creature. Prince or not, Vegeta was despicable, revolting, even. No creature in their right mind would grovel at his feet.

* * *

The reddish ground beneath the Saiyan Prince began vibrating, at first softly. But the tremors grew, visibly shaking the poor prince awake. His extended hand twitched as he lifted his face slowly from the ground, feeling the intense tremors of the planet suddenly stop. And as he looked up, he met an odd sight just before him for a planet that he had thought to be uninhabited. Vegeta licked his parched lips as he stared at two caravans only a few yards before him, having parked there. And he looked up helplessly as a thin, pink alien wrapped in bizarre linens hopped down from his place at the top of the caravan, approaching the strange creature with spiky hair.

Vegeta could hardly focus for thirst, the heat of this planet having gone to his head. And he thought he must have really been crazy as he stared at the folds of clothes they adorned, with billowy, white sleeves sticking out of a blue tunic, a golden sash slung over one shoulder with loose, red pants. These clothes, these strange clothes, for some reason reminded him of Kakarot. At first, as he saw the alien turn his large, pink head around to click a few things in a foreign language, he thought he was hallucinating. He thought that his hatred for Kakarot had finally gotten to him, finally marked him as a loon. But he realized that he wasn't a loon as he stared at that clothing, watched as another one of the aliens hopped down from their caravan. He had seen Kakarot in these clothes before, when he had returned to Earth after his so-called defeat of Frieza...

There was a lunge of Vegeta's heart as he allowed the pink creatures to pick him up, heaving as they moved him from the burning, red ground to the back of one of the caravans. They continued clicking in their language as Vegeta examined their clothing, knowing that Kakarot had to have visited this planet before. So, desperately, he choked in a gravelly voice, "Has Kakarot been here?"

But instead of answering his question, they poured cool and refreshing water in his mouth, like ice on his deprived lips. He gulped it down, feeling enough energy return to him to grasp the cool pot from their tiny, knotted hands, forcing it down more quickly than he could consume it. And so he spluttered, holding his hand up to his mouth as his chest seized. But as he laid back down, alone now in the back of the wooden caravan as they returned to the front of their caravans, guiding some large two-legged bird beasts along, he thought over where Kakarot had told him he'd visited between Namek and Earth, only able to think of one place. And that was a planet called Yardrat.

As far as Vegeta could recollect, however, Kakarot had never mentioned the weather being so disagreeable. Of course, Kakarot was odd, always being one to leave out important details such as these. Vegeta was simply thankful, though, that he hadn't been left to burn out on this planet. He was curious as to where they got such resources to make even this simple, wooden caravan, or where they stored water, or where that bird beast thing had come from. He didn't see any way that anything could survive in such conditions, and he hadn't even seen anything. But this curiosity of these people was satisfied as they, the Yardrats, continued moving along.

It seemed to have been in no time that the sky had lost the intense heat considerably, finally getting to a point in which it was simply dark. No moon, to the Saiyan Prince's disappointment, but that was of no matter. He didn't want to destroy these people yet, not until he could find out more about Kakarot. They might have had some secret, something that he was forgetting about after all of those years away from other Saiyan.

It was quickly night, even at the crawling pace they seemed to go. In the distance, as Vegeta peeked out of the cracks in the caravan walls, he noticed an array of tents, all of the red and blues and golds their colorful clothes contained. And Vegeta watched, intrigued, as he saw some of these Yardrats out, hoeing the harrowed ground. It was considerably cooler on this side of the planet, enough so that after being rehydrated, he found enough energy to sit up. And he stared out of the back of the caravan, having been left open, and began seeing mobs of curious peoples form behind, staring at him. The caravan drivers that had rescued him were clicking away in their strange language, finally jolting to a stop in the midst of a clearing, one where a large bonfire was being tended to.

Vegeta shivered slightly, cold now after the transition between hours in the sun's lingering rays and the coolness of night. He stood up on his two feet and hopped out of the caravan, considering blasting them all just to get his frustration from Namek out. But these people could help them, as they had already proven, and though they were hideous, there was still more they could do. But he would not let them touch him again, and as they tried to reach out, to feel the strange, blue spandex of his Saiyan suit, he jerked away. Then he marched off towards the fire, leaving the curious Yardrats trailing behind.

They were a hideous specimen, he noted as he glanced back at them, holding his hands up to the warm fire. His legs were spread apart as he stood there, taking a rather indifferent stance as they crept up behind him with interest. They certainly didn't seem terribly intelligent, simply clicking to one another in that strange language of theirs, though he supposed he had to at least be grateful enough to not blast them away. If they touched him, however, he would not adhere to his internal promise not to kill them. The last thing he wanted after everything he had gone through was their small, scabby hands on him.

But he was caught by surprise as one of them bowed low before him, this one dressed in trailing, silky cloths that the others lacked. It was more of a curtsy than the masculine bows, a hand over the abdomen, that were custom on the Saiyan planet, but Vegeta found slight pleasure in this gesture, listening as the Yardrat announced in a high-pitched, nasally voice, "Welcome to Planet Yardrat, Saiyan. You are welcome." He stared curiously at the thing, coming almost up to his shoulder as it stood back up. The introduction was strange, but before he could ask how they knew him, the thing continued, "I am King Yardrat the Twentieth, humbled to meet royalty, kin to another that goes by the name of Goku."

Vegeta sneered, protesting disdainfully, "I am no kin of Kakarot." But he couldn't hide the slight amusement on his face, the slight thrill he held at being addressed as royalty. It had been several years since anybody had acknowledged the title without him pressing the word to their mouths using threats, then obliterating them. There was a satisfaction in hearing even this miniscule, pink alien speak, the latest in a long line of uncreative names.

"I apologize. This Kakarot, who I may presume is the very same Goku I mentioned, spoke very highly of you during his stay," King Yardrat informed him, and the fluency in those words only made the Saiyan Prince curiouser. For a race that he had held in low regards just a moment before, they had redeemed themselves. They indeed did seem intelligent, or at least the royalty did. The others with their oversized heads simply backed away, giving wide enough berth to the king and his audience to prevent from crowding them. "Forgive me for my misunderstanding."

Vegeta quickly became suspicious, though, with these new thoughts to their intellectual capacities. He folded his arms across his chest. They didn't look very threatening, and he was certain that he could take on the whole lot of them with a single ki blast. But if they were a smart breed, the might have some technologies. There had to have been some reason that Kakarot had come to such a place after his supposed defeat of Frieza, and he remembered the fellow Saiyan even telling him of some technique that he had learned on this planet. But Vegeta, for all of his life, could not remember. He gritted his teeth, stumped as he stared down at the aliens, their eyes wide with anticipation of what he would say.

"How do you know who I am?" Vegeta demanded rather threateningly, but the glare he sent the tiny king did nothing to faze him.

The Yardrat King simply laughed, "There is nothing that we do not know! We are not physically capable, but we are Yardrats, a very perceptive race. It is easy to feed off of the information you give us simply with the expression you're sending us, as you Saiyans are a very expressive race." A round of chortles from the crowd brought Vegeta to the realization that they understood the universal language, too, but he didn't speak, even at this supposed insult to his race. He simply harrumphed as the tiny alien continued, "We are Yardrats, not only perceptive, but also considered to be benders of time and space. We are best known for our ability called Instant Transmission."

Vegeta's mouth fell open at this, leaving him to look on incredulously at the tiny thing before him. Instant Transmission? This was why Kakarot had spent so long on this blasted planet! He had spent that time learning the technique, something that he realized would be his ticked off of this wasteland. He recomposed his face into a simper, lunging for the Yardrat King's blue tunic and holding him up in the air as he barked, "You will teach me Instant Transmission!" And to his surprise, none of the Yardrats reacted as the Namekians would have if he had been holding Guru in such a position. No, they all cocked their strangely shaped heads as the Yardrat King laughed, nodding his head.

"Of course! Any friend of Goku's is a friend of ours!" And Vegeta immediately set it down, disconcerted by its uncanny behavior. With any other individual, they would have taken being held up as a threat, but this Yardrat was either foolish or extremely confident. But that was of no matter, as long as the job was accomplished. If he could learn Instant Transmission, he might be able to transport himself directly to Earth instead of waiting in a space pod for weeks. Then he could commence his destruction of that blasted planet, able to simply transport himself off of it as soon as he was finished with his business there.

The only problem that Vegeta could see was actually learning it, though. It had seemed to take Kakarot about a year to learn the trick, though Kakarot was a fool. He was easily turned away from tasks at hand, and Vegeta was certain that he was stronger than Kakarot had been then, at least by a hundred-fold. No, Vegeta was certain that it would take him only a week at most to learn it, if that. He would set to work on it right away, no distractions.

But before he could declare his plan to get started on his training, the Yardrat King suggested, "Let us get you something to eat! Saiyans require much nutrition, as we learned from Goku." And immediately, Vegeta's blasted stomach growled, signaling that he needed to get something in his stomach lest he wither into nothingness. So he followed a procession away from the flickering light of the bonfire and to one of the larger tents, wondering just how they had food on such a barren planet. The Yardrat King, being as perceptive as it was, immediately answered his unasked question by going on about the agricultural technique of their unique landscape: how the planet revolved once ever Earth week, how they traveled as nomads around the sun during this time, staying in the dark to prevent being sizzled up in the unrelenting rays of their powerful sun, and how they planted crops as they did so, crops that needed very little attention but a few times a week, giving them their night time to water the necessary crops.

Vegeta ignored the Yardrat King as it droned on and on about how they had just suffered a dry spell and how they were so sorry for a lack of food. He continued grabbing everything he could find, not focusing on exactly what he was stuffing into his mouth and thinking of exactly how he would extract his revenge upon Kakarot, because that much was certain. He would learn how to use Instant Transmission, go to Earth, and destroy them all. And he would watch and laugh as that blue-haired women and their children, those mistakes, died along with the planet, along with Kakarot and every pathetic half-breed on that planet. They would all die after he managed to wish back Planet Vegeta, able to start anew.


	76. A New Dawn

**New month, new part of the story. The first 'act' took place all in one day, believe it or not, so get used to some major changes. And I must thank you readers - 11,543 views for January, and for those of you that are curious, 6,847 views for December. I dedicate this chapter to Gue22 for giving me one of the most awesome reviews I've ever received, one that truly made me laugh, and I apologize in advance if this chapter's a little rough around the edges. Over fifteen chapters of not writing about a main character can make it hard to jump back in.**

The sun peeked out over the water's horizon, its race reaching forth and bringing light to a new morning. Large, tropical birds chirped and soared out of their roosts, diving into clear skies. The ocean water sparkled flawlessly, each wave frothing into white foam as it crashed onto the sandy beach. It was these waves that rolled over a Saiyan's body, attempting to awaken him. Their murmurs and whispers, the same one that had encouraged him to jump in just the night before, were unable to rouse the unconscious. As far as they could help it, Goku was knocked out.

But the power of nature was incapable in ways that others weren't. As the sun slowly ascended, the skies transitioning from the majestic purple of night to the light blue of day, Goku's body twitched, though not because of the waves' persistence. As he laid there, flat on his chest and his hair worse for wear, his limbs sprawled in all directions, his nose tingled. It had picked up something rather pleasant. He lifted his face off of its side, finding the fine sand to stick to his cheek, but he didn't even bother to brush it off. He blinked a few times as he regained balance on all fours, placing his hands firmly in the wet sand and pushed himself off of the ground. Then he crawled a little further up the beach, sitting down once he was out of the ocean's extensive reach.

He stared out at the calm waters, blinking in confusion. Where was he? He spun his head around, not moving otherwise, but still could not pinpoint exactly where he was or how he had ended up here, on a beach, of all places. He remembered Krillin talking about going to the beach the night before, and he briefly wondered if Krillin was here with him. But then he remembered, memories flying back to him, colliding into his small brain but not quite penetrating its stolid defenses. Goku cringed a little, now remembering just what had happened with Chi-Chi at the Kame House.

He sighed as he sat near the top of the long and thin beach, his legs crossed as he hunched over, keeping his hands in his lap while surveying the area from this point. There were tall palms whose fronds dipped down, their tips floating lightly with a cool breeze. There were colorful birds circling overhead, though as Goku pressed a hand to his stomach, he couldn't help but imagine that they wouldn't make for a very good breakfast. They were too small with not enough meat, and he was certainly hungry, even after two Senzu Beans and a fridge full of food at the Kame House. But he justified his hunger, knowing that those were the only things he had eaten that day.

With a hand pressed firmly against the sand, he stood back up, regaining his balance after having drifted along with the ocean's currents for hours on end. He scratched the sand off of his face and shook his body in an attempt to dry himself off as a dog would, but his clothes were too waterlogged to be dried so easily. So he quickly kicked his training boots and socks off, tossing them towards the drier grass resting at the top of the beach, near the base of a group of palm trees. Then he snapped his pink, elastic wristbands off, adding them to the slowly growing pile. And with only slight hesitation as he looked down at the stain of blood, still there even after drifting through the ocean, he pulled his shirt off and threw it aside. It was only when he got to his pants that he became uneasy, remembering Chi-Chi's rules about wearing clothing. He wanted to be defiant, to disobey his ex-wife after she had hurt his feelings, but he couldn't bring himself to so. So, in a final act of respect towards what he knew Chi-Chi would want, he decided to keep his pants and boxers on, knowing that he should at least check the area for inhabitants before he even thought of going au naturale.

It was as he began stepped between two towering trees, entering the jungle beyond them in search of food, that he stopped, sniffing the air and smelling that tantalizing scent that had awoken him. It didn't smell like food, but there was still something delicious about it that was enough to distract him from his hunger. He pushed his way through some low-lying foliage, his nose wrinkling a little. There was something oddly familiar about the scent, and though he hadn't smelled it in years, he had smelled it often. It was a scent from his childhood, most definitely.

Finally, once he'd tackled through the center of the forest and stumbled on to a clearing, he thought he had the smell on its tracks. But he looked up, realizing that the smell was in the air. So he kicked off of the ground and ascended above the treetops, his eyes immediately meeting a large volcano on the other side of what he realized had been an island that he had ended up on. Smoke billowed from its top peacefully, and Goku couldn't help but smile slightly, knowing that he had seen this volcano before. He flew closer to it, looking down at the sparse houses on the island. They were all similar, some in neat rows at the foot of overbearing cliffs, some more remote towards the far reaches of the island.

But his attention was turned from they tiny huts below him to that smell, now even more prominent while at this elevation. He stayed upright in place, sucking in a deep breath as he closed his eyes. No, it wasn't the sooty smoke from the volcano that he remembered - it was something far more subtle.

He landed on one of the overhanging, rocky cliffs looming over the jungle. It felt oddly familiar, seeing the vast jungle spread out before him, but he turned his back on it. The smell was even stronger here, and as he laid down on the ground, he realized just what it was. It was the grass, growing up between the cracked rock by the edge. He grabbed a handful and pressed it up to his face with a growing grin. Now he knew where he was, having finally pinpointed the sweet aroma the herbaceous grass gave off, distinct from any other grass he had ever seen or felt. This was the same island that he had trained for his first World Martial Arts Tournament, where Master Roshi had worked them long and hard, giving them an odd assortment of tasks to complete their 'training'. And he remembered laying in this grass with Krillin after a grueling morning's work, imagining their futures, futures that seemed so silly now.

He rolled on to his back and into a thicker patch of grass, where it met the rocky ledge. His arms were sprawled out as he lay there, feeling that sweet grass' tips brush up against his bare back. His chest rose and fell as he lay there, thinking over his time on this island. Life had seemed complicated then, when he was training. It had seemed difficult, and it had been. But that type of difficulty was nowhere near the difficult of life as he face it now. That was more endurance, but this... this mess with Chi-Chi was something else.

There had been no hint of Chi-Chi being unhappy with him. She had never told him outright that she would get married if he left her, and when she pleaded that he stay each time he left, he thought that she was only kidding. She always acted as though they would never see each other again, but Goku knew they would. They had the rest of this life and all of the next, in Other World, to spend together. He couldn't believe that she had thought him to be unreasonable, going off to train for the fate of the world. There was always that chance of something happening, as peace never lasted long, and he wanted to be certain that he could protect her. If something happened to Chi-Chi under his watch, he wasn't sure what he would do. But now she wasn't under his watch anymore. She was under the watch of another man, a man named Kahn...

Goku clenched his teeth, pained by the thought. There was an unnatural feeling in his chest, one that he had rarely felt, and it was the burning desire to take back what he had lost. He had felt it seldom before, usually being lighted by the death of a close friend. And he had always managed to fight back, to persevere and claim what was rightfully his. But how could he fight back an old man? This wasn't another Frieza or Cell, somebody that he could spare no mercy for their ruthless actions. No, this was an old man, one that likely couldn't fight back. And how much would Chi-Chi hate him if he did strike her new husband?

In a situation as delicate as this one, Goku wondered if this was his time to back off. He never stepped down to a challenge, but as he lay there, staring up at the brightening sky, the sun peacefully rising in the distance, he wondered if he would have to step down from this one. There was no winning in this twisted game, this one that Chi-Chi was forcing him through.

Along with the murder of an old man being morally wrong, he knew that Chi-Chi wouldn't ever be the same wife she had been only a few years ago. She had changed a lot, that was certain.

He released a crestfallen sigh, his chest deflating as he placed his hands behind his head, watching a few birds fly above. There was nothing for him anymore. Chi-Chi was married, as was Goten, and Gohan couldn't stand him. Krillin was busy with his own wife, and Vegeta... Goku wondered what his fellow Saiyan was up to, training in space. He hoped that his old friend was training, becoming the best fighter possible. At that moment, Goku wanted nothing more than to be able to spar with somebody, to release this pent-up frustration.

But as he sat up, placing his hand back to his stomach, he realized that there was something he wanted just a tad bit more than a good spar. The growl of his stomach signaled that he needed to eat, to replenish his strength. Then he could decide where to go.

Goku stood back up on his feet, peeking over that very ledge that Roshi had thrown a rock so long ago, sending two small boys on a mission to find it. He smiled slightly at this memory, thinking of those simpler times, before approaching the edge. Then he jumped off to soar into the jungle where he remembered seeing wild boars years ago. He could only hope, even with all of the other changes that had taken place, that they were still there. He needed some sort of stability, connecting the old to what would become the new.


	77. Where Priorities Diverge

**Ah, back to the crazy antics of the Namekians. Enjoy.**

Dende passed under an archway, having awoken from his light sleep with the first rays of sun poking from above the clouds gathered around the Lookout. He stretched his arms out, considering making a round about the landing, just to make sure that everything was back to normal. There were a few places in the tile that needed to be fixed, but he was certain that it would all be repaired within a few days. Mr. Popo was rather good about keeping on top of the housekeeping, leaving Dende to simply watch over Earth's inhabitants.

But before he could step out into the open, the sky still dark but quickly brightening, he noticed Eighteen sitting on the tiled floor, her legs crossed with a short man leaning against her shoulder. The two of them were backed against the wall, and Dende observed them curiously. Krillin was asleep, but Dende flinched as the android's blue eyes shot open.

"Hello," she said, staring up at him nonchalantly, as if her presence on Kami's Lookout had been expected. Dende, however, had not anticipated company the next morning, having dealt with enough. But before he could say a word, he felt a cape brush up against him. And as he turned around, he noticed Piccolo's looming figure suddenly hovering over his thin self.

"Dende," he greeted sharply, his jagged teeth clenched together as he crossed his arms. The Guardian of Earth had to step back, surprised by what was supposed to be a day of relaxation. But he found that the more time he spent with these Z-Fighters, the more unrest he would find in his days. He didn't protest, though, as Piccolo said, "We have some news from King Kai. I wanted to wake you last night, but the genie was persistent." He snarled, remembering how protective Mr. Popo had been of his master, insisting that nobody wake him. "Anyways, the Kai told Krillin that Vegeta is approaching now. We aren't sure of the details, seeing as he hasn't contacted us since, and none of us have means of contacting Other World."

Dende nodded in confusion. They had already known that Vegeta would be approaching, or at least they had guessed as much, thanks to Supreme Kai. There must have been something more, however, in the stern expression on Piccolo's face, his eyes drifting from the towering Namekian to the sitting android. She looked serious, too, but she was always serious. He couldn't imagine how she or Krillin had gotten involved, but before he could ask, his attention was snapped back to Piccolo, who continued, "We need you to destroy the Dragon Balls."

"What?" Dende asked incredulously.

"We need you to destroy the Dragon Balls."

Dende didn't need Piccolo to repeat himself; he had heard the older Namekian quite clearly. But he was too caught up in the absurdity of such a request, prompting him to stutter, "But... but why?" His face fell as he became nervous, knowing exactly what 'destroying the Dragon Balls' entailed, though Piccolo obviously took no notice. He didn't even manage a smirk at his fellow Namekian's discomfort, being too absorbed by the magnitude of the problem.

"If Vegeta's coming to Earth, he obviously wants the Dragon Balls," Piccolo explained, Eighteen grimacing in disgust as she noticed Krillin had been dribbling all over her new shirt, thus pushing him over on his side. The Namekians watched, Dende wincing as Krillin hit his head against the tile, but Krillin didn't wake up. As Eighteen pulled herself to her feet, leaving Krillin on his side, Piccolo snorted with mild amusement. But there were important matters to be dealt with, and his attention was once again turned to Dende, who was still looking puzzled. "We have to destroy them before he gets here, as there is no telling what he will do."

"But how do you know he's coming back for the Dragon Balls?" Dende inquired, a pained grimace on his face at the thought of having to destroy the Dragon Balls.

Piccolo's forehead furrowed as Eighteen leaned against the wall, her arms also folded across her chest. She simply watched, not bothering to help Piccolo out as he searched for the right words. Then, Piccolo carefully said, "King Kai reported that Vegeta was on Namek."

As he had suspected, Dende's face turned to one of horror at the thought of the Saiyan being on his planet. He stared up at the taller Namekian silently, watching as he bit at his bottom lip, feeling sorry for having to be the one to break this news to the Guardian of Earth. Hearing that Vegeta was on a planet was one thing, especially coming from the Supreme Kai's lips, but for Piccolo to tell him that he had actually been on Namek was heartwrenching. Memories of the Saiyan terrorizing his people, all in search of the Dragon Balls, returned to him. He closed his eyes, hoping that his people were safe. Vegeta had come a long way since that time, and Dende did enjoy giving others the benefit of the doubt.

One thing didn't settle well with the Namekian, however, so he turned back to face Piccolo once more and asked, "But why would he come here if he's already been to Namek? The Dragon Balls there are just as powerful, if not more so. It makes no sense that he would go there and then come back here just for a few wishes."

"The difference is the language barrier," Piccolo muttered, his voice low. "One is required to use the Namekian language when speaking to Porunga, but Shenron is more accepting." And Dende let out a low moan of realization at this, knowing that Vegeta would only come to Earth afterward if his Namekian kin hadn't been compliant to his demands. And knowing how proud even Namekians could be, he wouldn't be surprised if they had refused his wishes. And Dende knew Vegeta well enough to know that the Saiyan could act irrationally if he didn't get what he wanted.

Dende placed a hand to his forehead and asked, hoping for somebody to prove him wrong, "You don't think that..." He couldn't even finish his question for worry, simply trailing off.

But Piccolo understood his anxieties, extending his clawed hand to grip the smaller Namekian by the shoulder. Then, staring him straight in the eyes, Piccolo replied, "I can't answer anything, but if you want my opinion..." Piccolo sighed, seeing the disappointment in Dende's face. He averted his eyes away, towards the ground, finding it easier to confess, "If they agreed to whatever wishes he might have had, I feel that Vegeta's grown to be a good enough man that he would leave them alone. If not, however, I fear the worst." Then, regaining confidence, he shook Dende slightly by the shoulder, their eyes locking once more as he quietly said, more harshly than he had originally intended, "If Namek's gone, Namek's gone. There's nothing we can do about it."

"What about Shenron?" Dende asked, his voice hopeful. But he only received another jarring shake by the older Namekian, receiving a glare that was enough to submit him into silence once more.

"Shenron is going to die," Piccolo snarled, uncertain of how many times he had to drill that into the boy's skull. "We don't have time to mess around, making stupid wishes when Vegeta is coming. All wishes, even good ones, have bad consequences. We need to destroy the Dragon Balls now before Vegeta can get here - there's a large chance that Vegeta didn't even destroy Namek."

"Did King Kai not tell you what Vegeta did on Namek?"

"No." The two Namekians turned to face Eighteen, who was becoming annoyed that they were getting caught up in their own problems. She brushed her blond hair back, tucking it behind her ear, before putting her arms back into their folded position. "King Kai hasn't told us anything, and we've been waiting for him to give us more information. Trust us - as important as your sleep might be, we would have overridden the genie if we were rushed."

"So there is no hurry?"

Piccolo glared at Eighteen, angry that she had chosen to speak up when she had. But he didn't say a word to the android, who was frowning as she watched the two green men. Piccolo shook his head in frustration before letting his arms fall to his side, admitting, "It should take Vegeta about a week's time to get here."

"So we have enough time to wish for Namek's safety?"

But this was the wrong question, and Piccolo felt as if he had been pushed to far. He lunged out, grabbing Dende by the front of his loose, white tunic, and thundered as he hunched over to better meet the shorter Namekian's height, "How many times to I have to tell you? We aren't using the Dragon Balls! We're destroying them! We can't take our risks by using them freely, making our chances of getting Vegeta off of this planet even slimmer! I don't want us using those balls for anything, whether it be for our good or for somebody else's good. Those Dragon Balls should have been destroyed a long time ago, before they had even ever been used!"

And Piccolo shoved Dende away, letting him stumble back a few paces as the furious Namekian stormed off, his cape whirling in his wake. Dende watched anxiously, glancing back towards Eighteen before they watched him plop down on the far edge of Kami's Lookout in a meditative position. The Guardian of Earth tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth nervously, wondering whether he should take this time to console his troubled brethren or not. But something within him told him that there were more urgent matters to be tended to, mainly pertaining to his home planet.

Eighteen watched the retreated figure, unimpressed by his childish behavior. But before she could contemplate over just what was wrong with Piccolo, she saw Dende leave without a word to go inside, probably to talk matters over with the genie. Whatever Namekians were considered to be, she couldn't help but think with distaste that they acted an awful lot like men. She clenched her teeth, glancing down to the slumbering Krillin, giving him a slight nudge with her boot. And to think that she had ever decided to settle down. Perhaps all men weren't so bad, just the ones that she was stuck with.


	78. Personal Discoveries

**D'oh, poor Dende! And I'm glad that Piccolo's behavior in this story is likable. I've always imagined him as being the type of guy who likes being in charge, but goes about it the wrong way.  
**

After pulling up and tightening the drawstring of his pants, Goku rolled his shoulders back and looked around the jungle floor. He was out of practice with catching animals after driving Uub's village's wild boar population to near extinction, some of the elders banning him from the local hunting grounds. But they didn't understand just how large a Saiyan's appetite was, so he had always been grateful when Uub would bring him something back. Every once in a while, whenever he was tired of the fish the boy would give him, he would fly to another nearby region and catch prey there to make up for the measly dinners they had taken to giving him, but that was only on rare occasion. No, most of the time he would put up with the scraps they gave him, only enough to feed five men when he had the stomach for ten.

He smiled contentedly as he patted his abdomen, not feeling sorry in the slightest for having released his bladder on such an unsuspecting tree. It had been a while since he'd done such, he mused as he turned his eyes upward in a thoughtful expression. It hadn't been since he'd made that pit stop in a bush near Chi-Chi's house on his way there, being quick and flighty about it. He hoped that nobody had caught him then, and he certainly hoped that he hadn't been seen now. But as he glanced around, there was nobody, making it time now to find a good meal.

He leapt up into one of the lower branches of a tree, perched up there like a monkey, reminding him of his childhood. All he needed was the familiar flick of his tail every once in a while to really bring back those years spent training in the wild, in many ways the same little kid he was today. This new life he would start would be just like those earlier days, sans the tail, of course. He laughed and lost his balance, falling off but quickly grabbing the branch with his arm and pulling himself up again. It was times like these that he needed that tail, though he supposed the ability of flight made up for it.

He settled back down, brushing away thoughts of what his life would be like to instead concentrate on this kill. So he stayed still, maintaining this position with a hand resting on an upper branch. He wiggled impatiently at first, having become too excited at the prospect of reliving his boyhood, but he calmed down. His muscles relaxed as he scanned the vicinity, sensing minor energy levels and smelling the dirty fur that distinguished these hogs. So with a stealth and grace had acquired as a child when on hunts such as these, he swung through the jungle, branch after branch, in search of breakfast.

* * *

On the Lookout, a very eager Namekian could be heard telling things in hushed whispers to his genie accomplice, Mr. Popo reminding him to keep his voice down all the while. Dende had taken it upon himself to recount just what information Piccolo had given him just before, but before the genie could get out of this, Dende was revealing his feelings to Mr. Popo. His feelings. Mr. Popo could only sigh, sitting on a bed on the side of the room opposite where Trunks was lying down, still asleep at this hour of the morning. His legs were crossed and his hands in his lap as his master droned on and on, though he supposed this was better than hearing the Supreme Kai's blabbering. If there was one thing that Kai had taught the genie, it was the appreciate the coherence of the blabbering on Earth.

"...and I told Piccolo that we should at least use Shenron to check up on Namek! I mean, what if something's happened?" Dende looked rather flustered, standing there awkwardly before the genie with his arms hanging limply to his sides. The genie only noted how pale his skin had become as he continued, "And then King Kai's apparently told them next to nothing about Vegeta! I don't know what that Kai's been doing, but right now I feel as if he's been doing about as good a job as his superiors." And he clenched his teeth and looked to the ceiling anxiously, hoping that nobody had heard his little outburst of disapproval.

But Mr. Popo only asked, "Did you drink any of the water I gave you last night?" He knew that, especially for Namekians, water did wonders to clear minds. The dumbfounded Dende only shook his head as he turned his attention back to the genie, who smiled knowingly as he slid off of the bed. "Let me go get you some," he insisted, knowing that it would calm Dende's panic.

Dende, however, panicked at the thought of Mr. Popo abandoning him. "Wait!" he yelled out to the genie that had slid around the corner, giving one last warning to remain silent by pressing a finger to his large lips. Dende clasped his hands over his mouth, turning back cautiously towards the sleeping demi-Saiyan with his hand hanging off of the edge of the bed. To his relief, though, Trunks hadn't stirred in his sleep, only mumbling a little.

Dende slid his face into his hands, uncertain of what to do. He wanted to disobey Piccolo's order to stay put and destroy the Dragon Balls. But as of that moment, Dende wasn't sure if Piccolo even remembered what 'destroying the balls' meant. He clenched his teeth, his heart pounding at the thought. To give up his life for the good of the world? It was a tough decision to make, one that he knew Piccolo had been forced to make before. But now the strain was off of his shoulders, being combined with Kami, and it had been pushed upon Dende. Dende, the small Namekian who was frightened by the smallest of things, was in charge of making the largest decision for the world.

Would he have to kill himself? He couldn't be certain. There had to have been another way of destroying the dragon, but the problem was that whole thing about him being an 'eternal' dragon, implying that he couldn't be killed unless his creator died. Dende winced, unwilling to give up his short life for something that could be nothing. What if Vegeta returning to Earth wasn't for the Dragon Balls? What if there was another motive behind the Saiyan's actions, such as trying to amend friendships. Or so Dende could hope.

He gulped, placing a hand on a metal bedposts, putting his weight on it. He shook his head, unable to think clearly with his mind so muddled. He had woken up feeling fine, but Piccolo's determination to get him killed was enough to start this morning off badly. But what if the Dragon Balls were necessary in defending the Earth?

Piccolo had certainly spent a lot of time talking about what a threat the balls were to the Earth and its inhabitants, starting wars and forging rivalries. But they were more than simply tools of destruction. They were used to help keep civilizations together, to bring back the innocent and allow them to keep living their worthy lives. Piccolo wouldn't have been alive had it not been due to the Dragon Balls, and he'd never had a problem with them before. So what was the major, contributing factor to his decision to destroy the Dragon Balls?

Dende assumed that it was Vegeta that was the root source of all of this worrying. When he had been able to keep an eye on the Saiyan, it had been simpler to read exactly what he planned to do. Never had the Saiyan gravitated towards the Earth Dragon Balls in search of immortality, but now... Now that Dende knew he had been on Namek, it was logical to assume that he had wanted one thing. Wishes...

But why hadn't the Saiyan come directly to Earth? Certainly his people were weaker, but they weren't any less stubborn. No, especially with the language barrier presented, getting wishes off of Namekian Dragon Balls was a more difficult task. Was he scared of something on Earth, such as Goku? Or was the thought of three wishes instead of two more intriguing? Perhaps, though, Namek was simply closer to where he had been, wherever he had been while in space. Personally, Dende could hardly believe that the Saiyan was alive and well, though Saiyans always surprised him.

These thoughts and more boggled him, distressing the poor Namekian and making his heart work far harder than it should have. But he was relieved as he saw Mr. Popo dash back into the room, the water in the jug he was holding barely shaking with the grace of the genie's fluid movements. He placed it directly in the Guardian of Earth's hands, commanding, "Drink."

Dende nodded, lifting the small jug directly to his dry lips and letting the refreshing drink trickle down his throat. He closed his eyes, enjoying it and bobbing his head, hardly listening as Mr. Popo informed him, "Piccolo has gone out to look for Goku again, going to look in all of the usual spots. I believe he is convinced that he will find the elusive man, though I'm afraid that Goku will not be found if he doesn't want to." He sighed, even frustrated himself by what had been happening lately. He only wanted to see a happy ending for the group. But he pushed away his own thoughts and added, "He said that you need to make a decision soon about some little deal you two have made, or he will make it for you."

The Namekian choked in mid-gulp, lowering the ceramic jar from his mouth and almost dropping it in his loose grip. He stared in awe at the genie, who was waiting for his master to finish with his drink. But he shoved the jug back into Mr. Popo's hands, leaning against the bed post again and shaking his head. The water hadn't done much to help clear his mind, and his breathing only sharpened at this news. From what Mr. Popo had said, Dende had no choice in this matter. If he didn't kill himself, Piccolo would kill him.


	79. The Guardian's Protector

**Ha ha, I'm not in competition with anybody but myself, though I must admit that I do envy LPphreek's incredible way of shooting out chapters that are several thousand words each day. Though I haven't read Rediscovering Honor, I have read some of her other work and find her to be an exceptional writer. So no conspiracy, and if you're placing bets, don't bet on me. I'm making this story completely up as I go, and it seems to get longer and longer as I keep writing. In all honesty, I don't even know what I'm going to do for the next chapter yet. =)  
**

**On a semi-related note, if any of you see grammar/spelling mistakes in my chapters, feel free to correct me! And even if it's not something structural, suggestions/critique/plot-holes-you-want-to-shove-in-my-face (hopefully not too many, for my own sanity) are always welcome. I'm not perfect, and I usually only give my chapters the once-over when I'm done. Editing ain't my forte, in other words. Anyways, I apologize for this block of AN and hope you enjoy!  
**

Eighteen snorted to herself as she slumped back down against the wall, having just seen Piccolo grab Mr. Popo by the shoulder and whisper something to him, having forgotten that the android was still there with her husband. As a group they had been rather unproductive, even at Piccolo's insistence that they act quickly now. They had done almost nothing the night before, having needed Dende for one reason or another to destroy the Dragon Balls. She wasn't certain that it was a great idea after all, but she knew that they had time to make a final decision. A week was enough time to get Dende to finally decide on this deal, seeing as he must have been the only one with the power to destroy the Dragon Balls.

Was the real answer to such a problem as Vegeta simply to destroy those mystical spheres? It seemed like an easy solution to a hard problem, but she wondered what would happen if Vegeta came to Earth to only find that they didn't exist anymore. Would he take it upon himself to obliterate the Earth? Of course, there was always Goku, but they had trouble locating his ki, something that Piccolo was fretting about. According to the words she had heard him tell the black genie, he was checking all of the usual locations again. She had considered telling him to make sure that Marron was still fine when he dropped by the Kame House, but she decided against that idea. It wouldn't be safe to get close to the Namekian, especially as paranoid as he proved himself to be.

No, she was paranoid herself, but she could at least admit it. Being around a full Saiyan again had been enough to do that to her, putting her on high alert. She was sided with Piccolo on one thing, that these Saiyans weren't a trustworthy lot. Krillin insisted that Goku certainly was, but even he could be unpredictable. The fact that he had taken it upon himself to give Gohan such a thrashing as he had the night before was enough to shock her, and she wasn't easily shocked. But in a time of danger, if she had to trust one Saiyan, it would have to be Goku. At least he was more of an open book than Vegeta, who forever tried concealing how he felt, often failing to succeed. And without that particular, short Saiyan around to watch, she couldn't be sure of exactly what his intentions of coming to Earth were.

She stared at the rising sun, awaiting the Namekian's return. Then they could formulate some sort of a deal, a plan of what to do. They could offer Dende a few days at least to make his decision to destroy the Dragon Balls, and with those days they could lie low. If Goku decided to come back, he would be welcomed, or at least until these matters were resolved with Vegeta. She regretted having to put her confidence in his abilities, but he certainly was the more trustworthy one. Stupid, yes, but loyal to his family. He would do anything to assure the safety of his family, something she wondered about. Did he even realize that he was tearing his family apart by simply being there?

The blond-haired android sighed, looking down to her husband. Then, to her surprise, she saw him open his eyes wearily, blinking a few times. She crossed her arms, looking down at him as he leaned against her pant leg and murmured, "I'm tired, Eighteen. Where are we?"

"Kami's Lookout," she replied abruptly, looking at the ever-rising sun. It had to have still been extremely early, with the opposite reaches of the sky still being dark. Krillin had never been an early riser, prompting her to order, "Go back to sleep. We're waiting for Piccolo to return, and then we're going." She didn't want to deal with him when he was too tired to even stand, always having been her warning sign before of when to send him off to bed. And he complied with his wife's demand, swaying slightly before laying at her feet. She smirked. glad to know that she was in charge and always would be.

She continued standing there for almost an hour before seeing a distant, green figure land on the edge of the Lookout. She stepped over her husband's dormant body, his dark hair sprawled out, and approached Piccolo. The sun had risen so that the sky was a gradient of blue, cloudless from their standpoint. A tiny wind picked up, pushing the Namekian's thick cape every which way as he stood there, his eyes closed as he waited for her to reach him.

"Any signs?" she called out to him, her arms still crossed as she strutted her way coolly across the landing, eyeing some of the ruined tile from the previous night's brawl.

"No," Piccolo replied in almost a growl, huffing in disappointment. He hadn't actually expected to find Goku in any of the usual places, but it was worth a try. He hadn't even bothered entering, instead simply hovering over each one, trying to sense the Saiyan's energy. There was no way that Goku would be on alert for the Namekian every second of every day, so he assumed that catching him off guard would be the best way to find the sneaky man. But he hadn't been at the Kame House, at Capsule Corp., at Mt. Paozu, at Chi-Chi's house, or at Korin Tower. He had actually rapped on Korin's door, giving the troubled cat a rather unpleasant experience, not restraining his wrath. He and that pile of lard had simply quivered in their beds, knowing that they were at the top of his dreaded hit list, save for the Kais.

He had thought of disregarding this whole business about Vegeta after considering the source. But he couldn't brush away something so important as this simply because of a grudge he held against those wretched Kais, even having concluded that this might all have been some clever ploy to distract him from the problem of Goku, a problem indeed. It was too elaborate of a plot, though, to have been concocted by those imbeciles, and he trusted that even the Kais weren't so stupid as to make something up on this grand a scale simply to save the hide of one worthless Saiyan. Or at least he could pretend they weren't, giving them the benefit of the doubt.

With large strides, he pushed his way past the android, who uttered in offense at being so quickly ignored, "Wait!" He turned back around, annoyed that she was holding him up when he needed to be talking to Dende about the Dragon Balls. But he obeyed her request, standing there as she jabbed a finger suspiciously at him and said, "You're putting Dende up to something, something about those Dragon Balls. When you talked to him about destroying them, he ran off." Piccolo glared at her as she asked, "So what's wrong?"

Dr. Gero had programmed her to be too perceptive for Piccolo's taste, androids being another thing that he had never been able to trust. But he exhaled deeply before explaining, "The problem is that we don't know how to destroy the Dragon Balls. Our only available option at the moment is to kill him so the balls will be inert."

The android was not fazed at all, surprising the Namekian slightly. She simply cupped her chin in thought, leering at Piccolo before asking, "So if we find some other way to destroy the Dragon Balls, we can proceed with destroying them?" She still wasn't certain that she loved the idea, but they needed the ability to destroy them, preferably without destroying the only possible creator of Dragon Balls along with them. At least if they decided to destroy them, they could always have Dende recreate them. If he still alive, that was, by the time Piccolo was through with him.

"Yes, and I know it's possible," Piccolo said, clenching his teeth angrily at his own faulty memory. "There's some way that I destroyed the dragon in a past life, though I can't remember how."

"Have you tried ki blasts?" the android asked, but the Namekian was not amused at such a suggestion. He glared accusingly at her until she place a hand to her hip, shrugging her shoulders. "What?"

"Ki blasts?" Piccolo asked incredulously, uncertain if she was mocking him or not. But when she simply sneered back at him, her small nose crinkling as he displayed his superiority, he said, "That's ridiculous. He's called an 'eternal' dragon. There is no way that any blast could take him out - it was probably a powerful incantation that I managed." He placed dug his head into his shoulders, nodding slightly. "I do remember some powerful incantation, though I can't recall if I used it or if it was used against me..."

"Whatever."

And then there was uncomfortably silence as the two averted eye contact, waiting for the other to move. It was finally Eighteen that said, "Krillin and I are going home now. Will you give me a few days to try to find some way to destroy this dragon? I don't want the Guardian of Earth to die." And she even felt a little sorry for Dende, though only as sorry as an android with a heart as cold as her's could possibly feel.

Piccolo stared at her, gritting his teeth impatiently, just itching at the thought of having to wait even that long to see something done. But he felt obliged to at least give a fellow Namekian some chance at living, so he muttered, "Fine." He pressed his lips together, the two of them locking eye contact. "I'll give you three days to find out Shenron's weakness, and then you two report to me." Then he stormed off in the direction of the large palace, trying to get as far away from that persistent android as possible.

Eighteen released a relieved sigh and walked over to Krillin, hoisting him up in her thin arms. She was glad that she had managed to save somebody's life. She may have been created as a killing machine, but she didn't want to destroy Earth. She had come to like this planet, being the only one she'd ever known, and she didn't want to have all chances of using wishes destroyed just yet. So she had saved Dende, the Guardian of Earth, three more days of life. Then she could stop Piccolo from murdering his own kind if she had to, or she would allow him to proceed in the off-chance that she actually agreed that destroying the dragon would actually save Earth form Vegeta. But she knew one thing now, and that was that they were to never discuss this with anybody else. Eighteen was a confidential person, and she liked keeping matters to herself.


	80. Trouble with Fire

**It's a silly chapter, and I've never written anything quite like this. I hope it breaks up the tense mood on Kami's Lookout... Oh, and thank you, everybody, for being so supportive of this story. I'm not sure it would be here without all of you all, so I hope you enjoy this chapter! You deserve it!  
**

The local children all flocked together every morning before classes up on the hanging cliff. They were always warned to never go to close to the ledge, lest they risk falling off, so they stayed in the grass at all times. Some played games, some ran about wildly, and some simply plopped down on the grass so exclusive to this island and watched the sun rise above the volcano.

This particular morning was like any other, with the children hanging around in the 'schoolyard'. The teacher, a short and stout woman with a kind disposition, made her way out of a small building that could be called the school. It used to be a warehouse of sorts, but the parents on the island had decided that it was high time that this island become civilized, and as the population grew, so did the purported level of education. The folks living on this island wanted to give off the image of luxury on this almost barren island, having taken to building towns and roads and small houses. But the issue of a schoolhouse, of course, had been neglected, forcing them into this building too tiny for the twenty, thirty children that needed to learn to read and write before becoming apprentices of some trade or another.

The teacher clapped to gain their attention, calling, "Children! It's time to come inside!" But as she ruffled her greying curls, she noticed that the children were all standing on the edge of the cliff, against their parents' wishes. She gasped, running towards them and yelling, "Get away from the cliff! You might fall!"

When she had finally reached them, the majority obeying her wishes, one boy pointed towards the jungle sprawled beneath them, saying in a clear and distinct voice, "Look." And she allowed her eyes to follow his finger, clenching on to the boys shoulders to pull him away from the cliff edge. But she stopped this subtle motion as she realized just what he was pointing at, just what had gathered the attention of all of her students.

There was a small tendril of smoke rising from the midst of trees in the jungle, from what appeared to be a small clearing. It seemed that a forest fire had begun, but the teacher didn't panic, lest she make the children panic. No, she acted calmly, ushering them inside with words like, "I'll be certain to tell somebody."

And once she was inside, the children all settled at their wooden desks with their pails of lunch sitting underneath them, she moved towards the phone hanging on the wall. She picked it up and punched in three numbers, allowing the children to talk quietly amongst themselves as she did so. Then she held the device up to her ear, grabbing the cord in her plump hand anxiously, running it over her fingers. Then she listened to the ring, hearing a cheery man's voice quickly pick up and say, "Hello! This is the Mango Island Police Station! What can I do to help you today?"

In a scared, shuddering voice as she turned away from the students, facing the blackboard instead, she said, "There's smoke rising out of the jungle..."

* * *

Goku had been dozing off, having caught a boar and now simply waiting for it to roast. It had been skewered with a large branch he had managed to whittle down into a manageable stick, and it was now hanging on the limbs of two nearby trees above a large fire. He grinned to himself, able to imagine what a feast this would be for breakfast. Of course, he'd have to catch another one for lunch, and probably another two for dinner, but they were simple enough to catch. It only took a simple ki blast to bring one down after he found the pack, which wasn't hard in itself. He only had to rely on his trusty nose and the hoof prints on the ground, though his ability to sense energy did help.

Now he was simply relaxing, waiting for the thing to cook. He was laying on the dirt floor of the small clearing he had chosen, not noticing that the two trees bearing the boar had caught on fire. No, he thought that the smoke reaching his nose was that of his meal, not the wildlife around him. Not even as birds cleared the area did he suspect that perhaps something had gone wrong with his meal.

It was finally when he heard a crackling sound that he opened his eyes, astounded to see a shriveled tree branch falling from the sky. He looked up, unable to contain a small gasp as he rolled out of the way, another shriveled branch falling as the flames began spreading from treetop to treetop, though at a slow enough pace that he could keep up with it. He clenched his teeth, really wishing he had the Bansho Fan at the moment, but knowing that the item wouldn't show up. He realized that he had no ki blasts that could effectively put out the fire without destroying half the forest.

He decided that he would try forcing bursts of air at the flames, much like the ones he had used in that one World Martial Arts Tournament match against Chi-Chi, though that proved to be detrimental. Instead of extinguishing the flames as he had hoped, those bursts of airs only fed them. He scowled, itching the back of his head and watching as more bits of the jungle ceiling fell down, red embers leaping down on him.

He gritted his teeth in frustration as he sensed a few weak ki's coming his way. He turned towards that direction, yelling, "Stay back! You'll get hurt!" He waved his large arms, hoping to grab the attention of the approaching men in strange, red suits. But they ignored his warning and came dangerously close to the fire. They had long hoses in their gloved hands, dragging them across the ground. Goku watched in awe as they squirt water on the flames, combating them for only a few minutes before succeeding in their battle. But as Goku looked past the battlefield, his face fell in disappointment. His meal was ruined, the water having soaked the hog to the core. Goku pouted a little, running up to it and crying, "My breakfast!"

The firefighters watched him as he wrapped his large arms around the hog, still speared with a singed stick. It was then that one grabbed him by the shoulder and exclaimed, "You fool!" It was said in a tone so like Vegeta's that Goku spun back around, half-wondering if his friend was there with him. But he was disappointed to see a man taller than Vegeta chastising him. "How could you care about that hog when you could have died? You're lucky we saved you!"

Goku's mouth fell open in shock as another, shorter man in dark blue wriggled through the crowd, grabbing Goku by his arms and clicking handcuffs around his wrists, saying, "You're under arrest for arson." And then he recomposed his face, biting his bottom lip and allowing the small man to lead him away. He was clearly in trouble for something, whatever being under arrest meant. He gave a glance back towards the men in red rubber that had saved the forest from burning, even without a Bansho Fan, his eyes falling upon the one that had sounded like Vegeta before being jerked away by the small police officer.

"What's arson?" Goku finally asked, trudging through the jungle behind the short man, whose moustache bristled indignantly at such a question.

"It's setting things on fire," was the police officer's abrupt reply as he readjusted the hat on his head, pulling Goku along by keeping a hand firmly on his arm. The police officer had dealt with several men like him, knowing that they always tried acting dumb. His temper was short for men like these, a slight jealousy arising especially considering that Goku was a good foot and a half taller than him. Even Goku noticed this height difference, noting that this officer was even shorter than Vegeta!

But as much as this realization amused the Saiyan, he couldn't help but wonder just what had happened. He always set things on fire, like firewood and matches. He wasn't sure what being under arrest meant, but he had a hunch that it meant trouble. So, trying to plead his case, he said, "But I set things on fire all the time and I've never gotten in trouble before!"

"Oh ho!" the police officer laughed, knowing that he had caught the man. He had even admitted to the crime, making it impossible now for him to back out. A few years in jail ought to knock this habit of setting things on fire out of him, the police officer knew. He was just proud to have been the one to have finally caught this dangerous man - if what he was saying was true, then this tall man had been behind a number of crimes and had never been caught before. The chief would be proud, he knew.

It was when they reached the edge of the forest that Goku muttered, "I'm hungry." His lunch had been taken away from him unfairly by that fire, and Goku could have saved it had those firefighters not drenched the hog in water. Now it was just an inedible, soggy mess. Goku knew that if he didn't get some energy soon, he might just pass out.

"You'll get food soon enough," the police officer mumbled, pulling him across the clearing and into a tiny building, the island's police station.

Goku looked around curiously, seeing a few rooms that just had bars around them, closing them off to the rest of the open space. He then focused his attention on two men sitting on either side of a rather small desk, eating something that smelled delicious to the Saiyan. With a wide grin on his face, Goku pushed past the midget police officer and towards the two sitting there, eating doughnuts. Then, without so much as asking, he grabbed the box between them and began gorging himself on the sugary sweetness. The officers watched in horror as licked his fingers, the chain between the handcuffs having broken in this quick scuffle.

The chief sat straight up in his chair, staring at the man indignantly, not even noticing the broken chain of the handcuffs. He stood up slowly, staring at this strange, shirtless man in disbelief, having never seen a specimen quite like him. With a hand touching the butt of the untouched gun in his holster, the chief only bit his bottom lip as Goku exclaimed, pushing the box back across the table, "Thanks! Chi-Chi never lets me have these!" Then he patted his abdomen and said, "But I'm still hungry."

"D-did you break the handcuffs?" the chief asked after noticing that the broken chain, the other two turning their heads in horror at the observation. But there was the chain, dangling in broken halves from his wrists.

Goku glanced down after wiping his fingers on his pants, apologizing, "Sorry! I didn't mean to!" After these men had been so nice as to share their doughnuts, he felt bad for breaking their things. "If you give me some more, I'll be more careful." And he licked his lips, holding his wrists out for the man to give him more. At first, he didn't think he could trust these weird people in blue uniform, having regarded the rough manner that first man had treated him with. But now that he had something in that empty stomach of his, he felt as if these men could almost be his friends, having so willingly shared their meal.

But the stunned chief did not replace the broken handcuffs. After a few seconds of looking over the man, he came over his shock and motioned towards the chair that the other officer had just been sitting in, having leapt up in fear of this bizarre man. "Sit down," he insisted, rubbing at the stubble on his face. In his twenty some-odd years on the police force on this island, he had never run into a situation quite as unique as this. Here was an extremely well-built man with signs of age on his face having been shoved into this room willingly by the smallest officer on the squad, no resistance whatsoever. And he hadn't seemed worried at all, simply lunging forth for the box of doughnuts he had been munching from and breaking the handcuffs, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary whatsoever.

The chief sighed as he noticed one of the other officers grab a bat from the corner of the dingy room, just in case. He sat down in the larger chair, one that showed his importance, and folded his hands together on the wooden table. It had been quite a while since somebody had been dragged into this building, as Mango Island was a generally peaceful place to live. But the chief couldn't help but admit that this was an interesting case, and as he ruffled his large, dangling moustache, he said kindly, "It's obvious that you're not from around these parts. I'm Chief Pigero, and this is my staff." He motioned towards the two men around him, shuffling quite awkwardly in their spots, uncertain of what to do in circumstances such as these. "I want you to explain who you are, where you come from, and what happened."

The short officer that had brought Goku in opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly shot down by a glare Pigero gave him. They all waited, watching the strange, shirtless man sitting in a chair too tiny for his frame, as he began, "Well, I'm Goku. I come from a place called Mt. Paozu, where my Grandpa Gohan raised me. Then I ran into a girl named Bulma who told me that she needed to find the Dragon Balls, and I left with her, and we went exploring until we ran into Oolong, who was a big bad monster but was really just a pig who can shape-shift..."

And so began Goku's life story, much to the amazement and disbelief of three witnesses, clearly not getting paid enough to do their jobs.


	81. Slip of the Mind

**I must say, out of all of the DBZ characters whose name spellings eludes me the most often, it's Oolong. Random, I know, but I cannot spell his name. Otokosuki? Check. Hirudegarn? Yes. Spopovich? Of course. But Oolong? Nope. Anyways, enough of this rambling - enjoy the ramblings of two incompetent Namekians and their barely competent genie friend.**

When Piccolo barged into the large room, his footsteps resounding through the open area, Dende flinched. He had been seated on a bed near Mr. Popo, the two of them with their eyes closed in meditation. And though the black genie didn't seem to have been disturbed in the slightest by the intimidating Namekian's entrance, Dende couldn't keep his mind off of things to come. This was it. Piccolo would tell him that they would have to kill him, all for the good of the Earth.

He finally pried his eyes open, jumping back in surprise as he saw the proximity between Piccolo's looming figure and his own cowardly self. The Namekian had his arms crossed, an expression of irritation on his sharp facial features. But before Dende could ask what was wrong, Piccolo barked, "You have three days."

Mr. Popo opened his eyes, too, staring at the tall Namekian in surprise. He was even more clueless than Dende, who had not gotten around to revealing just the terms of his and Piccolo's 'deal', the one meaning almost certain death to the Guardian of Earth. Dende had been expecting Piccolo to walk in, already charging up that Special Beam Cannon he had seen him use just the day before against Goku, ready to incinerate him into nothingness. But instead, he had baffled the poor Guardian of Earth, telling him he had three days. Three days? For what?

"W-what do you mean?" Dende stammered, having not meant to sound quite so meek. But he couldn't help it as Piccolo stepped closer, his golden slippers landing forcefully on the ground, each step ringing through Dende's large ears.

"You have three days to live," he explained, keeping his voice low so as to keep Trunks from awakening. Mr. Popo stared in awe at him, realization striking. It had taken this Namekian's solemnity to make him realize that Dende had been panicking earlier for good reason. It sounded as if Piccolo had been planning to kill him, something that Dende had forgotten to disclose earlier in his nonsensical rants. He turned to look at Dende, whose shoulders were tensed up as he realized that Piccolo really did remember what 'destroying the Dragon Balls' entailed. This wasn't a joke, it wasn't a game. It was the Guardian of Earth putting his life on the line for all of the peoples of his planet, making a gamble that could end up destroying them all.

Before he could ask anything of this 'gracious' decision, Piccolo muttered indignantly, "You're lucky that Android Eighteen managed to talk me out of killing you." He sneered, his teeth clenched as he thought about her. He wasn't sure of exactly why she had been so set on protecting Dende, but three days was nothing. She thought that she could save the poor Namekian, now gazing up at him in fear. "She wants to find another way of destroying the Dragon Balls."

Dende couldn't speak from shock. First, he had been told that he essentially had only three days to live. Second, he had been told that Eighteen, of anybody, had been the one to grant him those three days, almost a twist of fate. Of course it would be the once-villainous android to save him, not his friends, to save him from another friend. It was a strange business, and his throat felt too dry to talk all of the sudden. But that was fine, because Mr. Popo finally asked, "What are you two talking about?"

The two Namekians turned to face the genie, who's small, circular eyes had widened to that of a frightening size. Dende had rarely seen him so afraid, but having heard that he might have to pick out a new Guardian of Earth because Piccolo, of all people, would kill him, had certainly jabbed him. He had no idea of what had gone on between these two, for Dende to even have made a bargain as ridiculous as this one. His interest in this subject was only further piqued as Piccolo said, "There's not any choice but to destroy the dragon before Vegeta's arrival, and the only way we know of how to do such a thing is to kill the creator of the Dragon Balls, who also happens to be the Guardian of Earth."

Mr. Popo pressed his oversized, red lips together in thought, closing those wide eyes of his again. Dende cocked his head as he watched his friend, and Piccolo only sneered, unimpressed. And it was finally, after a minute, that Mr. Popo popped his eyes back open and exclaimed breathlessly, his one tooth showing, "I know there's another way!"

Dende found his voice again. "How, Mr. Popo?" he asked eagerly, leaning forth on the bed his was on, glad to have another shot at life. He promised to be the best Guardian of Earth if somebody would just give him this chance, and at the moment, it seemed that Mr. Popo had been the one to save him. But to his disappointment, Mr. Popo's shoulders fell and his smile faded.

"I'm not sure," he confessed, twiddling his thumb on his bed as Piccolo scoffed. "But I know there's another way because your predecessor, Piccolo, destroyed Shenron. I remember Kami thinking it almost better for the planet, though I disagreed, and-."

"We already knew that," Piccolo sneered, interrupting the genie's prattling. He released a heavy sigh and walked away from the two, retreating towards the door he had come through. He was annoyed by the genie, and he felt as if he had spent too much time telling them news that didn't even matter. There was no way that Eighteen was going to find the secret to destroying those Dragon Balls in three days, so Dende's death was inevitable. Why even give him three days to live? To give him a chance to make that stupid wish for Namek to be revived?

But Piccolo was a man of his word. He had already promised the android to give the boy three more days, three more days of life. They weren't in any rush, after all, seeing as there was no way that Vegeta would be able to make it back to Earth in less than a week, no matter the technology. Piccolo would head out to the edge of the Lookout, prepared to meditate more, to recollect his mind and body. Then he could focus on just what to do when Vegeta came to Earth, just how to curb the Saiyan's anger at his realization that the Dragon Balls had disappeared.

"Have you tried ki blasts?" Mr. Popo called after Piccolo as he stormed through the doorway, only to have a look of disgust returned at such a suggestion. Killing an eternal dragon had to be more than just some pathetic physical attack, or so Piccolo thought. There was no way that a ki blast would be able to take down a thing of that might. No, he knew that the Evil King Piccolo must have known some kind of magic so evil that nobody else knew about it. He scoffed at the idea of a ki blast. Nothing could be that simple, that easy.

Dende let out a crestfallen sigh, laying back in the bed he had been sitting on. This was terrible. He only had three days to come up with a solution to this problem, unless Mr. Popo was willing to knock him out and hide him away in Yunzabit Heights along with Yamcha. But Mr. Popo didn't seem prepared to do that, sitting in a thoughtful position as if such a devious plan had never crossed his mind, his legs crossed. The genie pressed a black fist up to his lips, his eyes closed as he tried to think up ways to get his master out of this dilemma. But no matter how much he concentrated, no ideas came to him.

"Piccolo's right," he finally murmured, opening his eyes and lifting his head to look at Dende. He sat up from his hunched position, leaning back on his black palms and allowing his short legs to dangle off the edge of the bed. "If Vegeta is coming here for the Dragon Balls, it would be sensible to destroy them. But would it not be easier to just wish for his memory to be erased, seeing as you can't kill him?"

Dende rested his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes as he shook his head. "I think that's beyond my power..." he muttered, unable to conceive just how he would be able to wipe the memory of a man whose location was unknown. Of course, he still wasn't able to believe half of the things that were considered to be within 'the creator's power'. As far as he knew, he wasn't able to bring the dead back to life or restore planets. No, there were strange rules behind just what could be done and what couldn't be done with those Dragon Balls, something that had always baffled him. But he had nobody to talk to anymore about those little quirks, now that Piccolo and Kami were one now, and he had a feeling that Piccolo wasn't ready to sit down and have a good chat with him.

"Strange thing, your powers," Mr. Popo mused, agreeing with Dende's ramblings in his head. He thought for a little bit longer before asking, "Could you destroy the planet Vegeta is on, seeing as killing is out of the question?"

Dende scowled, propping himself up on his elbow as he turned to the genie. He wasn't certain of destroying a planet would be out of his power, but the idea angered him. "What if he's on Namek, though? Then I would kill my whole race along with him!"

"Why don't you check, then?"

"How am I supposed to check?"

"That's easy. Get King Kai to tell you."

Dende was frustrated by the black genie, something that was difficult to do. But the idea of destroying his planet brought back worries of Namek being in ruins at the moment, something that he needed to ask the Kai about the next time they were in contact with him. But that was the whole problem, which Dende addressed as he said, rather hotly, "They've tried getting in touch with King Kai, and they couldn't."

"Did they try calling his name?" Dende was silent, looking at Mr. Popo, whose round eyes had reverted to their normal size during this conversation. He watched the genie carefully, not reply, as he repeated, "Well? Did they try yelling for him? That was always how Kami and I used to get in touch with him."

Dende winced. No, knowing Piccolo, the Namekian hadn't thought to just call out for the Kai. From how their conversation earlier had gone, it had sounded as if Piccolo had simply been waiting for King Kai to contact him once more. He huffed in defeat as he saw the genie slide gracefully off of the bed he was on, standing up and crying, "King Kai! King Kai!"

The Guardian of Earth sat up, embarrassed by this slip of the mind. He looked towards Mr. Popo, shaking his head absentmindedly. In the midst of all of these huge occurrences, what with Goku returning and news of Vegeta's future arrival, it seemed as though the small details had been evading them. How many other little things had they forgotten?


	82. Days, Namely Three

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

"King Kai! King Kai!"

The blue Kai grumbled as he heard a particular genie calling his name, still irritated by the events of earlier that day. Right after he had contacted Krillin, he had heard a particular voice running through his head, being that of the ever-important, arrogant, and utterly supreme Supreme Kai. That had been an unpleasant experience, what with him deciding to vent about how disrespectful Earthlings were through the clear air, where the Kai couldn't escape his blabbering. No, Kibito Kai had gone on and on and on about how those Earthlings had made mockery of him, and it was somehow all the blue Kai's fault.

There was a reason that King Kai hated those pompous, purple Kais so much.

And as if that hadn't been enough, then he had Elder Kai intercept this conversation once, rambling on about how he thought that he had left his crystal ball back on the tiny planet, insisting that he return to retrieve it. But to King Kai's good fortune, the senile fool had managed to find the crystal ball and was, to Kibito Kai's disgust, using it to look at women all across the galaxy. And that only incited another rant about how little respect he received, how nobody followed his rules, and more about how he thought that the blue Kai had fallen down on his job.

And just when King Kai thought he was going to explode, the antennae on his head twitching violently in annoyance, Kibito Kai had cut the signal after explaining that he would try stopping Elder Kai. After hours of listening to the Kai's ranting, King Kai was only able to shake his head and sigh with relief.

Stupid purple Kais, thinking they were above everybody else.

All thoughts on Vegeta had escaped his mind as a result of this interruption, but in all honesty, he wouldn't have even thought of contacting Earth again anyways. He forgot that they would probably worry with the information he gave them, and he had simply been planning on finishing up the waxing car on his job. But even that plan had been messed up, what with Kibito Kai and his venting. That purple Kai needed to get some new 'friends' if he considered King Kai to be one.

"I'm here, I'm here," the blue Kai muttered, taking a handkerchief out of a shirt pocket and wiping his blue glasses with them. He sighed and placed the cloth back before asking, "What do you need, Mr. Popo?"

He felt Gregory flit to his back, holding his hand there so that he could listen in on the conversation. Bubbles was out picking flowers in the field, King Kai having not gotten around to plucking those wretched dandelions yet. He scowled as he saw Bubbles pluck them by their stem, not by their roots, but before he could stop the monkey from making his job of picking weeds any harder, the genie said, "Could you please describe the state of Planet Namek?"

This question shocked the Kai a little, having never explained to the Earthlings that Vegeta was actually on Namek. But he supposed that self- serving Supreme Kai had blabbed all about the happenings on his planet, never able to keep a thing to himself. He was just glad that this wasn't confidential news, though he did feel badly now. It was no wonder the genie called him up, as he could only imagine how Dende was taking news of that Saiyan being on his home planet.

King Kai nodded, though Mr. Popo couldn't see the gesture, and readjusted his glasses. "Sure thing," he replied, holding his palm out and allowing an image of a green planet to project from it. The limitations of the Kai's powers were that so that he could only zoom in close enough to instances to see a planet as a whole, very handy for seeing if it was in complete ruin, but not very handy for getting a close inspection. However, from this distance, it didn't look as if Namek had been destroyed - in fact, it looked relatively untouched to the blue Kai. So, after allowing the figure in his hand to dissipate, he reported, "Looks good to me! Namek is still intact." And if only he could have looked closer at the planet without a crystal ball, then he could have seen the terror its people were in.

Mr. Popo released a contented sigh and relayed the news to Dende, who the Kai assumed was by the genie's side. But just as he thought Mr. Popo would release the connection between them, he asked, "Is Vegeta still on Planet Namek?"

Now that was an interesting question. King Kai held his hands behind his back, trying to ignore Bubbles, and allowed his antennae to fidget in the air. This business of locating people was very useful, a reason why King Kai didn't mind having these feelers, though he felt they frightened people. Especially small children, he feared. But he allowed that thought to pass, instead trying to hone in on the location of the Saiyan. But try as he might, he couldn't sense Vegeta's presence anywhere, not in his quadrant of the universe, at least.

Bizarre. He pressed his lips together, wondering just what had happened. There was no way that he could have taken a ship out of Namek that quickly and made his way past the boundaries of the Kai's reception range. Namek was pretty close to the middle of King Kai's sector, and it would take several days before he could even make it past that border. There was always the possibility that he was dead, but the chances of that were slim to none. He always heard complaints from Yemma whenever there was a resistor in the crowd, and judging by the last time he entered Other World, he knew that Vegeta could really put up a fight.

"It's strange, but I'm not getting his signal," King Kai said, unable to explain it himself. "He's not on Namek, but he's not anywhere in my sector of the universe, either."

"So he is not coming to Earth anymore?" Mr. Popo assumed, his voice filled with joy. If Vegeta wasn't coming, Piccolo would have no reason to kill Dende. They could keep the Dragon Balls, and the genie wouldn't have to go about the business of finding another Guardian of Earth. And after having Namekians chosen for such a position for the last two times, he couldn't imagine anybody else filling such a role. There was Piccolo, but he was essentially evil, even Kami's goodness not being able to overcome the demon within. And then Kami had once prodded Goku for such a position, but if Goku had taken up such a job, the genie knew that the Earth wouldn't have held up for more than a year.

But to the genie's disappointment, King Kai said, "I wouldn't assume he's not coming to Earth anymore. He sounded pretty confident about it to me." Then, after a moment of pondering over this news, he added, "And make sure that Piccolo still thinks he's coming, or he'll go hunting down Goku some more."

"But King Kai, I can't do that," the genie said gently, and the blue Kai frowned at this polite protest. "You see, Piccolo has this idea that," and he lowered his voice, just to make sure that the Namekian's sensitive ears would pick up on his words, "he has the idea that the Dragon Balls must be inert should Vegeta come, because a wish is most logically the reason why he would come to Earth. And the only way we know of doing such is by killing Dende, an option I would rather not turn to."

King Kai felt a trickle of sweat run down his forehead. "Kill Dende, eh?" He pulled that handkerchief out of his pocket again, dabbing at his face with it this time. "Well..." He didn't know of any way to destroy the Dragon Balls either, seeing as such a dilemma had never come up. He supposed that it made sense, because seeing as the only way to kill a Saiyan would be to kill him by hand. Wishes were useless as far as Vegeta went, simply because of matters being beyond Shenron's powers. With his eyes turned to the sky in thought, Gregory still sitting on his shoulder, he asked, "How much longer until Piccolo decides that he'll kill Dende?"

"Three days."

Three days? King Kai bit his bottom lip before urging, "Go ahead and let him think Vegeta's coming, Mr. Popo. I'll try to get to the bottom of exactly where he is during the next few days, and if I can't get down to it by that final day, tell him to call it off. There's a chance that he might not even be coming to Earth, but it's always good to be safe, not sorry." He would have to find out which sector Vegeta was in, but he could do that through the other directional Kais. He just hoped they were all still on Grand Kai's planet.

"Thank you," Mr. Popo said, considerably happier after this conversation with King Kai. At least it sounded like there was hope for the Guardian of Earth. But before the connection could be cut, Mr. Popo asked, "May I request one more thing of you, King Kai?"

"Sure, go ahead." The Kai was trying to calculate the fastest way to Grand Kai's planet, but he knew three days was enough time for him to find where Vegeta had disappeared to.

"Could you tell me where Goku is, please?" the black genie asked pleasantly.

The Kai nodded, allowing his antennae to jerk around once more. It didn't take long for him to locate the Saiyan, saying, "He's on Mango Island, a little ways away from the Kame House and neighboring an island called General Blue Camp." But before Mr. Popo could even ask this of him, he said, "I can't get in contact with him, though, because he's blocking signals." The Kai clenched his teeth, wondering if Goku was doing it on purpose or if it was all subconscious. Whichever it was, though, it certainly was annoying.

"Thank you," the genie said, finally hanging up on him. And the Kai massaged his forehead, trying to think over the coordinates for Grand Kai's planet. He hadn't been there in years, not since the last time he had gone to gloat to West Kai about having taken his planet. He smirked a little, allowing his drive to dissolve a little as he thought over how queer a name it was to name an island General Blue Camp. Certainly not very clever, but he then wondered if the planets around him had names. Was his deemed North Kai's Planet, or rather, the Coolest Planet with Ten Times Gravity in Existence?

He would have to take such a matter up with Yemma, he knew, as soon as he had the time. But for now, he needed to get to the Grand Kai's Planet, or rather, the Old Geezer in Need of a Reality Check's Planet. This business of naming planets was rather fun, he realized, as he renamed every planet he could think of on his way to saving Dende's life.


	83. Varying Degrees of Disbelief

**I may not have it out by lunchtime, but how's dinnertime? And before I tell you to enjoy as usual, I must thank you. Maybe one day I'll write original fictions, but as of this day, it'll just be plain, old DBZ fanfiction for me. =) Be certain to keep an eye out for those grammar/spelling mistakes!  
**

The tiny officer in blue had had just about enough of all of this nonsense, listening to tales spun of ninjas and demons and extraterrestrial beings and world tournaments. In fact, all of it sounded like a bunch of made-up mumbo jumbo, the only plausible part being about the Red Ribbon Army. He must have researched his facts before his arrival, but was this man really dense enough to believe that he had managed to take down the whole organization as a child? Everybody knew that it had been burnt to the cinders by a large conflagration, just as Mr. Satan had been the one to defeat Cell.

He glanced towards Chief Pigero, only to utter a sound of disbelief as he noticed the chief's awed expression, as if he was on the verge of buying all of this codswallop. So he coughed, placing a fist to his hand just as this shifty Goku character had begun on another tangent, continuing on and on as if he had no intention of stopping any time soon. They had already spent the past half hour listening to him with his ridiculous account, and the officer could only feel his vein in his neck pop as the man started yet another tangent, "So I was up in Other World training with King Kai when we suddenly realized that I didn't have enough time to get back to Earth! It had taken me six months to travel down Snake Way, and I only had a day to get back! So he sent me along, now faster than I had been before-"

"And this Snake Way is a thousand miles long?" the officer asked, gaining a glare from Pigero.

But Goku didn't look at all perturbed by this interruption as he exclaimed, "No, it's a million!" And the officer crossed his arms, unable to listen to another round of this poppycock as he continued, "And so I had to get to Earth in time to rescue my friends from the Saiyans, who had sent out these little green guys called Saibamen! And they were evil, with fangs and-"

"Excuse me, but Saiba-what?" the officer asked again, having never heard of such a creature. A Saibaman? That was one of the most ludicrous things he had ever heard of, and he had heard plenty of ludicrous things during his lifetime.

But Pigero was the one to shush him, not giving this untrustworthy Goku fellow a chance to talk. "Let him continue," Pigero said sternly, so engaged in this fantastic fairytale. But that was the problem with all of this. They were supposed to be police officers, not children listening to ridiculous tales told by a ridiculous man. The officer, for one, had had enough.

"I will not let him continue," he pouted, stomping his foot down firmly on the ground. The Goku man gave him a curious look, playing dumb like all of them. He didn't care if Pigero was going to fall for all of this foolishness, but he, for one, was not one to believe all of this childishness. He pointed an accusing finger at the large man sitting rather naively in the small chair, crying, "He's a criminal, by Kami's sake! He's a grown man who has committed a rather serious infraction, and you all are... you all are letting him tell you all this story! He must be a criminal mastermind, fooling all of you all into listening to this nonsense!"

Goku wasn't offended at all, lighting up at the mention of him being a 'mastermind'. Nobody had ever told him he was smart. But Pigero didn't take these words quite so kindly, standing up from his swivel chair and setting his hand down firmly upon his desk. "Are you calling me a fool?"

The short officer winced, saying, "No, that's not what I meant. It's just-"

"If you aren't going to listen to this testimony, I reckon you leave."

The chief's voice was so final that the officer couldn't help but protest rather meekly, "But this isn't a testimony! Can you really believe this man, guilty of arson, sitting here and talking of dying and rebirth and all of these other ridiculous things?"

"Whether I believe him or not is up to me," Pigero said gruffly, standing up to his full height and successfully hovering over the tiny officer. "Now if you're going to interrupt this man, I suggest you leave." And that was enough to quiet the furious cop into standing there, staring at the man who had spent the better part of the morning, rambling on about random things.. But none of it made sense.

He looked as Pigero sat back down in his large chair, leaning forth once more with interest as he said, "Now start once more. You were talking about these Saibamen?"

Goku, this bizarre, suspicious man, smiled and enthusiastically shot his mouth off once more. The officer sulked, watching him with interest. Where had he come from? Who was he? What mental asylum had he just broken out of?

* * *

Bulma kicked her covers off of her legs, revealing a sleeping gown that had ridden up her side a bit too far during the night's tussles. She pushed the dress back down, clenching her teeth. She hated waking up early, but something was bothering her. Her night had been rough, starting with Bulla waking her up last night. She couldn't remember the details of that meeting; she only remembered feeling highly irritated at having her beauty sleep disturbed. But she wasn't one to lash out at her daughter, and instead of yelling her out as she would have any other individual, she tried going back to bed.

But there had been a series of dreams she'd had after all of the events of that day, all pertaining to a certain Saiyan. She hadn't been awoken by them, but they were all the same and rather unpleasant. They all cast Vegeta and Yamcha together, the latter getting beat up. And then, instead of sweeping his ex-wife up into his arms, he turned to her and obliterated her along with their daughter. Of course, she never got quite this far in these nightmares, only getting to the part where the Saiyan's sharp eyes would be cast down upon her, a hand held before her as she held Bulla in her arms. And then the two, mother and daughter, would watch with large eyes as a ball of light generated in his palm, Bulla turning to her desperately, pleading...

Though most of them had been essentially the same, it had been that last one that had gotten her, finally waking her. There had been Trunks, still the same teenager he had been in her memories, standing alongside his father. And the two of them, with identical evil smirks, stood back-to-back with that energy in their hands. The resemblance between father and son had been uncanny, Trunks taking on Vegeta's violent expression, glaring down upon them in the same way as the Saiyan Prince. And Yamcha had been able to do nothing about it, nothing at all.

Bulma licked her lips, sitting up as she opened her eyes. She propped herself up with her arms back, her hands pressed into the solid mattress. She glanced warily towards the shafts of light peeking from the blinds on the other side of the room, putting a protective hand over her eyes to protect them from the intrusion of the sun's rays. It was late enough in the morning so the sky was bright, but it was too early for the heiress' tastes. Sleep was essential for her.

She glanced to her right to see that Yamcha's spot in the bed was vacant, as it had been all night. The covers on that side weren't even ruffled at all, meaning that he hadn't come in once. Yamcha hadn't come back after she had run him off. She immediately felt guilty, wondering if she had been too harsh on him. But he had been acting like a wimp, talking of all of these fears he had of somebody, of somebody that he wouldn't even name. And now her night had been filled with similar fears, and she had no idea that they were fears of the same person.

With a deep sigh, she swung her legs off the side of the bed and began her day far earlier than she would have liked. She went through the motions, not even completely registering just where Yamcha might have been. She wasn't too nonplussed over his not being there, knowing that he could handle himself. It might have been odd for him to spend a night without her, but with all of the events from the day before, she couldn't blame him. He was an emotional wreck, almost worse off than she had been.

She made her way into the kitchen, preparing herself a small breakfast of shredded wheat cereal. But as she plunged her spoon into the tiny bowl, her mind began clearing up. She scratched her head of blue hair a little, wondering just who it was that Yamcha had been afraid of, unable to admit it. Was it Goku? She hadn't seen him talk so nervously in a long time, and she wondered if the thought of revived competition frightened him. He had easily been one of the strongest humans around, even without going through an intense training regimen for the past couple of years. Yes, he worked out sparingly nowadays, but he was certainly still stronger than Krillin. And Eighteen, though a threat, had nothing against them. Piccolo never visited, and then there were Chiaotzu and Tien, hardly menacing and always gone. And then Gohan and Goten were sweet enough men to not cause her husband any harm, though the older boy had taken to secluding himself from group gatherings, probably mourning over his father-in-law's feeble state.

But was it Goku's sudden appearance that intimidated him? The younger man had always had a one-up on her husband, able to do everything he could and more. Perhaps there was something there, some type of competitive streak Yamcha had underneath him. He'd always been a strong fighter, but it seemed that he had become a better gambler of the late. She smiled to herself, remembering the first time he had lost to Oolong, of anybody.

The thought of that pig made her wonder, though, if this was about his small cat companion. Puar had always been there for Yamcha, often beating Bulma in the ability to care for the man. She remembered that the cat had watched over his side at all times, whether at home or in the hospital. No, that blue cat certainly had some affinity for her husband, and she knew that Yamcha had loved her, too. She had been his longest friend, after all. And Bulma remembered when Yamcha had returned home from his trip to the desert, empty-handed, no cat about him. She winced slightly, remembering that she had been troubled at that time, too. It had been so soon after Vegeta had gone and her father had passed away... The grief had been too much for her to bear alone.

Their relationship had been quick to start, she knew, and she sometimes wondered if they had moved too quickly for the scar-faced bandit. As much as he tried convincing himself, he had never been good with the ladies, and she couldn't help but fear that this had all been too much. She hated thinking of him in such a way, but he was almost only a support in her life. He didn't know that, of course, but she had been broken, maimed in the heart, after Vegeta had left. She bit her lip, realizing that she could never tell Yamcha that, though. It had been why she had begun practically bawling the day before. She was usually a strong woman, one who could pull herself through messes, but Goku's return had brought back thoughts of her own Saiyan.

And then Bulma realized something, something that made her drop her spoon in place and push her wooden chair back, practically running to her daughter's door.

Her Yamcha was scared of Vegeta.

By the time she got to Bulla's room, for some reason on the other side of the compound, her face was flushed, her hair disheveled even further after her restless night's sleep. She pressed the button that opened the sliding door, only to find Bulla sleep. Her breathing died down, glad to know that her daughter was still asleep. She closed the door again, a hand to her forehead in exhaustion, her mind muddled by a flow of incoming thoughts.

Yamcha had been acting strangely the night before, not at all like his usual cheery self. He had been nervous talking to her, unable to speak coherently. And now, now that she was fully awake, Bulma realized why. Goku attracted trouble, and in his book, Vegeta was trouble.

Yamcha was afraid that her Vegeta would return.


	84. In the Wee Hours

**Guys! I have so much to tell you, so be warned that this will be a long author's note (by my standards). But I must start off with an incredibly sincere apology! I'm sorry for the week-and-a-half hiatus from this story, but I finished with another project that I've published, one that I will shamelessly advertise in my next paragraph of AN. I typically don't take breaks from this story, and if I do, they're usually only for a few days due to writer's block. I just got struck by inspiration from out of the blue and had to write it down before I forgot... Again, I'm sorry for leaving you all at a random part in this story.**

**Now for the shameless advertisement. During the week, I published another story called _Milestones of Rebellion_. It's about 30,000 words long and on the next notch of maturity from this one, though it's still rated T. If you like action-packed drama, grotesque humor, and chapters way longer than the ones found here, check it out! 'Tis about Bardock and how he evolved (and didn't) as a character. Won't say anymore!  
**

**Anyways, enough with that. I must apologize for this chapter especially. I'm still trying to get back into the style of this piece, and so... Well, I'll just say that it's not what I usually write. It's a bit more filler-esque (character development!). Enjoy, everybody, and thanks for being so patient while I experiment with different stories!  
**

Gohan smacked his lips together a bit groggily, still exhausted from the events of the night before. It had felt so surreal, what with seeing his father again, almost having been like being in the presence of a ghost. He clenched his teeth and rolled over, tucking his legs beneath him and digging his face further into his plush pillow. He pulled the feather-filled pillow over his head, and his back arched a little as he did so. He immediately felt a sudden cold air on his bare back as the blanket slid off of it. With a slight shiver, he indignantly reached down to pull the covers back over him, to hide the skin exposed to the overly air-conditioned house, only to feel an even colder hand press itself against his spine.

The demi-Saiyan immediately sat upright, now on his knees while on the bed. He blinked a few times, taking in the morning from the window, still dark as the sun had rarely just peeked up from the horizon. He flinched a little as Videl removed her cold hand from his back, and he saw her sneak a grin up towards him when they locked eye contact. But he quickly averted his gaze, bringing himself to turn around and plop back down on the bed, sitting as one normally would. And he released a deep sigh, sparing another glance towards the window, the shutters parted so as to allow a view of the brightening sky.

When Gohan, now propped against the headboard of the bed, dared to look back down at his wife, he noticed that she was still wearing that hazy expression. He wondered why she was looking up at him in that way, though he supposed that she was still exhausted. No, it had only been two minutes in bed with him in his usual pants and her in her usual night dress that the two had fallen asleep, not even getting to talk as they had wanted to. The day had been so tiring for everybody, starting with that morning with the news of her father's expected survival and ending with the news of his father's unexpected arrival. It was strange how life could do this to him. Whereas the past seven, eight years had been uneventful on the most part, somebody up there that had something in for him had decided to throw everything at him, all at once. And the events from the day before hadn't even been concluded, or at least not properly. There was still the matter of dealing with his father.

Gohan released a sigh, but before he could begin contemplating over the matters of his father and his broken pride, Videl whispered, "Are you okay, Gohan?" She had said it so tenderly, in a voice that Gohan hadn't expected even from her, that it had startled him. The two had been used to putting up barriers between one another, becoming defensive in everything they said. Something had been acting as a force to repel the couple from one another during the past few years, but for some reason or another, this defensiveness seemed to have crumbled overnight.

He didn't reply, simply hunching over slightly as he sat up, resting the palms of his hands firmly on his pants. Videl propped herself up on an elbow and faced him, that undying care on her face. And then Gohan realized that Videl wasn't acting strangely at all. No, he had simply been ignoring her, being too caught up in his own selfish world. But he still didn't acknowledge her words, not until she asked, "What happened?"

She was more alert now than she had been just minutes before - Gohan could see it in her eyes as he turned to face her once more. He tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth as he felt nervous for the first time in years, not counting that day before. His pride had most definitely shattered, he realized. There was no denying such a thing, not when he could barely bring himself to talk, to even look at her. But he finally choked out, understanding what she meant, "I'm not sure, Videl."

He knew what happened, but he wasn't sure of how it came about. He was different, he could tell. But was this really all just because his father had knocked him out? Had his father knocked a screw loose in that calculating mind of his? The old Gohan, the one before that whole business with his father just the night before, was evident as he pushed the covers back off of him, sliding his bare feet on to the wooden floor. And Videl could only watch anxiously as he marched aggressively towards the writing desk, the one that had his computer perched on it. He immediately began skimming over a few essays he had left on the keyboard, scanning them with his quick eyes using the faint light filling the room. And then he sighed with relief as he set the papers down. His father might have knocked a few screws loose the night before, but he could still read and comprehend what his students had written just as well as he could have a decade earlier. No, he was just relieved that his father hadn't knocked a few brain cells out along with the job.

He turned around to see Videl now sitting up, staring at him oddly. He allowed a strained smile to appear on his face as he shook his head, rubbing the temple on his forehead. He returned to the bed and crawled back in it, only to have his wife ask, "Are you okay?" And he nodded, able to relax now that he knew that he was still smart. He simply sighed and pulled the covers over himself once more, prepared to wake up later that morning. But these minimalistic attempts at getting Videl to leave him alone that had worked all of these years weren't working anymore.

"Gohan, answer me," she urged, placing her cold palm on his bare arm after he had turned away. He flinched, lifting his head slightly to look towards her. And then to cut to the chase, she asked, "What are you going to do about your dad?"

He dropped his head back on the pillow and asked sourly, "What about my dad?" Though he was thankful for what the man had done to him, he wasn't certain that he could forgive him just yet. There had been so many things that he had been planning on doing to him, to teach him why to never leave his family. But before Gohan could even really touch him, his father had pounded him pitifully into the ocean. And even Gohan didn't enjoy this kind of humility, not when all of his family and friends knew what had happened. But then he realized that Videl didn't even know what had happened. So exhausted by the night's event, he had only mentioned a thing or two to her before the pair had passed out.

Before Videl could get an indignant word out, though, Gohan quickly apologized. "Sorry," he said, suddenly abashed by his anger. Videl's face looked upset by his brief, snarky retort, but he didn't want to explain the whole night at the moment. No, he was planning on falling back asleep and sleeping in late to the morning. So he pleaded in a softer voice, "Do you mind if we talk about this later?" There it was, his lack of pride again. Before the encounter with his father, he probably would have just stormed out of the room, angered by her persistence. But now he was willing to mend this all, to become the husband he hadn't been in months.

To his frustration, though, Videl shook his arm and said, "We're talking about this now." Her disappointment had quickly flared up into determination as she shoved at the demi-Saiyan's arm, no longer afraid of him. This was Gohan again, not that man who had seemed to have possessed his body over the past few years. He had a temper, yes, but it wasn't nearly as volatile as it once had been. Something had changed her husband, and she wanted to know exactly what it was.

Gohan groaned a little, shifting his body around so that he was facing her. He looked up at her looming frame, as she had decided to sit up in the bed instead of lay down like any normal human being at this time of morning. But she wasn't normal, he knew. She was definitely something else, something that he had been ignoring these past few years. And now he was able to appreciate her a little more, even when she did irritate him. But Videl always had to know. She couldn't be left in the dark without becoming suspicious, just as she had been when they had been teenagers. And Gohan found this certain nosiness just as annoying as he had found it when he had been eighteen, but there was still something about it that he liked.

He decided that it would be fruitless to argue, and so he said, "Fine, fine. What do you want to know?" He was rolled on to his backside now, staring up at the motionless ceiling fan hanging above them. But he spotted Videl's relieved expression just out of the corner of his eyes, gaining a genuine smirk out of him. It certainly was easy to appease her sometimes.

"What happened last night?"

It was a simple enough question, but Gohan wasn't sure of how to give a simple answer. However, he had to try. And so with his eyes still on the ceiling fan, he replied, "After I told you to leave, I ran into my-"

He stopped as he felt her cold hand on his arm once more. "I already know what happened," Videl said, a reminder that they had gotten a little further in their conversation than he had remembered the night before while lying in this same bed. He must have been so tired that he had forgotten what he had said, though he was certain that there hadn't been much that had escaped his mouth. But now Gohan was curious as to what she wanted him to say, or at least until she emphasized, "I want you to tell me what happened to you last night."

No, they had definitely not gotten this far in their conversation. He yawned, placing a hand to his mouth. It certainly was very early in the morning, and he wanted to roll over and fall back asleep. He, however, was forced to satisfy her craving for knowledge, even if this was one area that he had no expertise in. And so, a little reluctantly, he explained, "I don't know, Videl. I woke up after my dad knocked me out, and I felt different. Then I saw somebody that I thought was Trunks from the future, but it was really just Trunks from this time-"

"What?" she exclaimed a little incredulously. He had obviously not gotten this far in the amount he'd recited to her the night before. "You saw Trunks again?" It had been seven years since he had shown his face again, and it was incredible. Goku and Trunks had returned on the same day? This couldn't be mere coincidence - it couldn't. This was impossible. Majin Buu had also returned that day, and though she didn't realize it, Vegeta seemed to have plans of returning, too. It was incredibly unbelievable in the most horrible way. There were Saiyans and Majins returning, all of them just bringing trouble. But why?

Before she could pester Gohan again by shaking his arm fervently, she heard a series of low breaths escaped his mouth, a signal that he was asleep. She licked her lips and glanced outside the window to see it still so dark out. She certainly could use a few more hours of sleep, especially after having been so worried the night before. So she sunk her head into her pillow, forced to stare at Gohan's backside because he had turned away from her. He most certainly had changed, even if it didn't seem to be that way this morning. He had put up with her ridiculous commands for him to explain all that was happening, something that she knew this Gohan from the past few years wouldn't have done. And so she smiled slightly to herself. The night before had certainly made him seem so much more the changed man, what with him blushing furiously over everything like a little kid. But the change would have to be more gradual than that, she knew.

But there was something deep within that had stirred, something that only a Saiyan could understand. And though this problem of pride was corrected with him being put back on a humbler pedestal, Videl didn't know that pride was about to get some of the other Saiyans in trouble, too.


	85. Trapped by Despair

**A little rough around the edges, but enjoy nevertheless.**

On Mango Island, the sun farther up in the sky than at the Satan manor due to a change in time zones, three police officers were still trying to decipher one man's words. Pigero couldn't help but shake his head in awe at this man's creativity. He was either insane or brilliant, being able to create such a captivating story on the spot. And even if it wasn't made up on the spot, the sheer details of it were amazing, almost drawing him in to believe that it was true. Of course, some aspects of it were true. He knew that a Goku Son had won a World Martial Arts Tournament, he knew that the president of Capsule Corporation at the moment was that blue-haired Briefs woman, he knew that there had been several androids created in efforts to destroy the planet, and he knew that the Red Ribbon Army had indeed fallen many years ago. But he highly doubted that this man had a connection to all of these people and organizations, something that he had to agree with the shorter officer on.

But Pigero allowed him to continue. Police work on Mango Island was boring, what with there being no crimes, safe for the occasional instance of pickpocket or shoplifting. But arson? That was definitely a new one. And he had to face it, but this guy was simply too interesting to shut up in a jail cell and wait for some mental asylum to come along with bail to get him out. No, while this strange man who claimed to be that famed martial artist was here, they might as well have some fun with him.

He continued listening to this man's accounts of how he fought off Majin Buu and got the whole of the Earth to share energy for the Spirit Bomb, something that he found very strange. Majin Buu was Mr. Satan's... thing, not some monster. Certainly, he did have an affinity for sweets, but Pigero had never heard one account of the pink blob turning people into candy, let alone the masses. But then this Son character went on to explain that they had wiped the memories of all of mankind with those miraculous things he claimed existed, these things called Dragon Balls. Personally, this whole business was very confusing, and had it not be so intriguing, he might have decided to call the main land in an attempt to get somebody to take him away. But Son didn't seem to be a bad guy, not at all. He wondered how he could have gotten caught up in this arson mess, though Pigero wasn't upset about it. No, he was glad that there was something to keep him occupied.

All of this Son's claims were ridiculous, but Pigero could only wonder if there might have been some validity behind a few of them. He claimed to be the strongest warrior in the universe, and though that seemed far-fetched, Pigero couldn't help but notice that he was extremely fit, regarding his physical build in slight awe. There had been no doubt about it - this man definitely was strong, seeing as he had broken his handcuffs. This might have been the World Martial Arts Tournament champion, Goku Son, but he doubted that. It had been very long ago that the man had won, and this man before him looked too young to have been eighteen over thirty years ago. He did look a little aged in the face, but he still seemed to be in his prime. Quite remarkable, really, though Pigero wondered if this was really the champion's son. It would definitely explain the resemblance, though that had been too long ago for him to really remember what that Son fellow had looked like. By the time he had become old enough to enjoy fighting, the World Martial Arts Tournaments had been discontinued. He did enjoy it now that it had started up again, though it did get rather repetitive. There was no variance from year to year, always ending in Mr. Satan winning, even to this day.

Pigero leaned back in his large chair as the Son man started on with how he had attended a World Martial Arts Tournament just eight years ago, something that the chief thought he vaguely remembered. He didn't really keep up with these things, seeing as he knew how they would all end, and so he glanced to the officers on either side of him for confirmation. But one of them shrugged, one of them still pouting about being chastised half an hour earlier. So Pigero simply bristled his bushy moustache and watched Son carefully, observing how enthusiastic he was about fighting. There was a smile on his face that Pigero had rarely seen on any man, let alone on a hardened criminal as one of the police officers had tried persuading him into thinking he was. This was a carefree spirit, floating from one thought to another, those ambivalent eyes drifting upwards every once in a while as he tried remembering a detail. Definitely not the stuff of a criminal mastermind.

But then, to the surprise of Pigero, he saw the Son fellow's smile falter, becoming more of a grimace. He tilted his head downwards, as if in shame, as he continued, "I came back just yesterday to see my family again because Uub didn't need my help training anymore. But when I came back, I learned..." And there was a gulp on his part, grabbing the chieftain's attention at this change in mood. "I learned that Chi-Chi had remarried, and she said that she doesn't love me anymore."

From what Pigero had picked up from this conversation, Chi-Chi was his wife. And though he had heard of many divorce cases through his life, he couldn't help but pity this man before him, too large for the tiny, wooden chair. It was odd to see such a pitiable look on a man of such strength, and Pigero's heart was moved enough to say, "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Son."

He nodded a little, his eyes closed as he thought over how he would feel had his wife up and left him. It did sound as though Son had been away for a long time, though he couldn't help but sympathize with the man. Yes, if his Emily just decided that she had had enough of him, the officer certainly didn't know what he would do.

"So is that it?" the officer to his right asked impatiently, his arms crossed expectantly. He was tired of this, having wanted to return to his house to grab a bite of breakfast, seeing as there were always several lulls in the day. He personally didn't care about how this lunatic was talking of how his wife had left him. As far as he knew, he probably didn't have a wife and was probably just using this ploy to trick them into feeling sorry for him. Or, even worse, he might have imagined himself to have a wife. It wouldn't surprise this officer, seeing as he was absolutely insane.

This remark that broke the short silence earned him a glare from his superior. But to his relief, Son decided to sigh in a disheartened voice, "Yeah, that's it. I just came here after she told me to leave, and I was really just trying to cook a pig. Really. But then these fire fighters came and you came and you took me away, and I'm still hungry." He placed a hand to his stomach, looking incredibly meek now. Though Pigero felt sorry for the poor fellow, the other officer didn't find himself so forgiving.

"Too bad. Hardened criminals don't always get what they want," the officer snapped, finally at his breaking point. He had really had enough of all of this nonsense, and it took no effort for him to come around the desk with another pair of handcuffs, having pulled the extra set out of his back pocket. Pigero watched in disbelief as the poor Son guy put his arms out despondently, allowing the officer to snap the metal bands around his wrists and say, "Now, don't go breaking this pair. If you do, something bad's gonna happen." And this guy was enough of a sucker to seem to believe that, nodding his head glumly. And the officer felt a brief pride swell in his heart, because this man really scared him, deep down. From that first snap of the handcuffs, the officer could only wonder just who this Son fellow was and how strong he was. But here he was, the only officer to stand up to him; that was something to take pride in.

Pigero, however, felt differently. The chieftain stood up immediately, slamming his hands down on his desk as his swivel chair spun backwards. "What are you doing?" he asked, looking in awe as Goku stood up to his full height. He winced slightly as the tall man followed the officer as he tugged him by his chain, leading him to one of the jail cells.

"I'm treating him like a prisoner," the officer said bitterly, shutting the door on the Saiyan. He gritted his teeth, having never trusted tall men before. And here was this extremely tall man, locked behind bars all because of him. It was a good day at work, even though the boss didn't seem to be satisfied.

"He's not a prisoner!" Pigero protested, his eyes darting nervously towards the man in question. But the Son fellow didn't seem angry at all, so caught up in his own miseries.

The officer jerked the handcuffs around, pointing out, "I caught him, and he's a prisoner. He broke the law fair and square, what with almost catching the whole forst on fire. He's an arson! He's not some little kid who we can just let off! Had the fire fighter not run out there, the whole place could have burned down!"

And Pigero only bit his lip, realizing that the officer was quite right. This Son fellow, though not suspicious, had been convicted of arson. So he watched with slight contempt as the officer shoved the man twice his size into one of the cells, pulling a key out of his pocket and turning it in the heavy padlock hanging across the door. Son only allowed his shoulders to fall a little as he stood there, looking strangely out of place. Of course, that might have been due to him having no shirt on, something that Pigero decided he might as well correct as he asked, "Do you have anything to wear?" He figured that he might as well get comfortable by putting some clothes on, and he personally didn't like looking at the man's muscular frame, making him feel less a man.

To his surprise, Son lightened up at this reminder. "Yeah, my clothes are on the beach! I'll-"

"Go get them," Pigero demanded from the other officer, cutting Goku off before he could continue. And the officer abandoned the corner he had stayed in all of this time, scampering out of the building with the door just shutting behind him. Goku watched with a crestfallen expression, having just been about to suggest getting the clothes himself. He hoped that the man would be able to find them all right.

Goku plopped down on the floor, hunching his shoulders over as he stared up at the other officers, still wondering just what crime he had committed. He had already basically been disowned by Chi-Chi, and now these men wouldn't even let him get his own clothes? Life wasn't looking so great for the Saiyan. He wondered if coming back had been the right decision after all.


	86. Apprehension Creeps

**This is probably the most important chapter I've put up in a while. It may not seem like much, but it's the reintroduction of a main character. One day I will explain just how I came up with Samuel Kahn's character, but for now, I'm too tired. Anyways, enjoy - I wrote this chapter over forty chapters ago.**

When Samuel Kahn awoke, he had no idea of the happenings of the previous night. He blinked his eyes wearily and pushed his frail body up into a sitting position. He reached for the glass of water perched on his bedside table, sipping out of it slowly, both hands wrapped around it. He leered towards the other side of the king-sized bed out of the corner of his eye, wondering just why Chi-Chi wasn't laying by his side. A glance to the digital clock set on his bedside table, in close proximity so as to not strain his dying vision, informed him that it was only seven, early even by Chi-Chi's standards. If they had thrown a lavish party that night before, Samuel could have accepted her absence easily and accounted it for her cleaning paranoia, always having to get up early to make sure that the mansion was spotless. But, though dinner that night had been fairly lavish, it had only been between the two of them. It wasn't one of the hundred-person government parties they held on occasion.

He squinted his aging eyes and stretched his arms out in the bed, inhaling sharply. It was then that he pushed the small, red buzzer incorporated into the bedside table's framework, typically used for assistance in getting out of bed. But that morning, he was going to use it for information. It was curious that Chi-Chi wasn't there with him, something that he hadn't remembered happening in the longest of time.

While waiting, he grabbed both his reading glasses and a manuscript from the table. He placed the glasses on the crook of his nose and held the parchment right before him, his eyes glazed as he glanced over the scrawls covering the sheet. It was one of a series of letters he had started reading lately due to a new buy he had made, an island that was rumored to have belonged to his deceased older brother. It was called General Blue Camp, though the name may or may not have been misleading. But he had taken to reading some of his brother's written thoughts after having recovered them, found in a rumored military base after his untimely death. And this island, this one that he was looking into purchasing, was supposedly where these documents had been discovered, though vendors were known to say the most ridiculous things without proof.

This diary note that he had in his hand was rather boring, being early on in his brother's career; it talked of how his commander in charge had allowed him to grow plants in his cabin, speaking of the variety of roses that had begun springing up. It was undated and unaddressed, probably not meant for anybody's eyes but his own.

Samuel had shared a close bond with his brother during the short time they had known one another, considering that he left to join the army when he turned eighteen. And Samuel had only been seven at that time, this being the last time he had ever seen him. He remembered that day well, seeing his brother who had just cut his blond hair to army regulation, wearing that cap with a red ribbon emblazoned on it. He wore it proudly, and he wore it well. Samuel remembered feeling a duty swell in his heart, knowing that he would always remember his brother, as different as they were. One was blond with blue eyes, one was dark-haired with dark eyes. To call them brothers by blood would have seemed odder than to call them brothers by heart, though it was all true.

And then, for the next decade, this Red Ribbon Army grew and grew. He had never been certain of what this army did, always sheltered, though he felt that it must have been proud work. There were occasional letters sent home from his brother, talking of different commanders and other sorts of things. But then, just when Samuel had thought that all was going well, his parents disappeared. He wasn't sure of what exactly had happened, though the next thing he knew as that he was getting whisked away from the house he had known and loved, being taken to the north. And there, he stayed with two young women that were actually sisters to a general in this army. So they were similar, each being siblings to a high-ranked official. But they seemed just as clueless as he was, always leaving to spend their nights with men or something. It was the blond-haired one that stayed by his side most often, and she was certainly beautiful. She was only a few years older than him, freshly eighteen, and she served as almost a babysitter to him.

Tragedy struck again, however, when he learned that his brother had died at the age of twenty-eight, killed 'in battle'. He wasn't certain of what that meant, though Samuel was sure that it meant he had been killed with pride, taken down probably by a gunshot wound. But to his surprise, it wasn't just his brother that had been taken down. No, the whole army fell just a few days later, something extremely odd... Coincidence? Samuel couldn't be certain. He imagined them having been up against an impressive rival army, the enemies, though it had been put down as a large fire that had killed them all. Impossible, though. No army of his brother's would be taken down in such a dishonorable manner.

He set the letter back down in his lap impatiently, hitting the buzzer on the table with as much force as he could muster. A jolt of shock rushed through him, however, as the bedroom door swung open. The open doorway revealed a rather plump woman, actually the same woman who took him in when his parents had vanished, with dying blond hair tied back at the base of her neck in a bun, a case of medications in her arms. She was extremely old, but strong bones and a nutritious diet kept her going. She showed signs of younger beauty, much as Samuel did, having also been fine-looking before aging. And this age had been kind on neither of them, he noted with a sad smirk, as she said in a thick accent, "Mister Kahn, did you call for more medications? I has some good new needles with which I can poke into your rear side."

And with that, she dropped the case on to the bed and popped it open, immediately pulling out threatening needles of various sizes. Samuel shook his head, watching her maniacal grin for a brief second before explaining, "I didn't call you in for that, Ninel." The woman, disappointed, placed her weapons back into the case, and Samuel instantly felt a pang of pity for her. She wasn't very intelligent, having never been educated. Of course, his education was lacking, too, but at least he was naturally smart. She stared at him with clouded eyes as he continued, "I don't know where Chi-Chi is, and I was wondering if you could tell me."

She had begun muttering to herself about how dark the room was, waltzing across the floor of the room with surprising speed for somebody of her width. She pulled apart the velveteen curtains, allowing a bit of sunlight to enter the barren room, as she said, "I did not realize she was gone." She shrugged her broad shoulders and turned back to him, her fists planted firmly on her plump hips. "I live in the room next to you and am twice the sleeper. Only the buzzing machine wakes me up. I been asleep since you last night."

"So... you didn't hear the rifle?" he asked, only just remembering that detail from last night. His mind was now clearer than it had been that time he had woken up in the middle of the night, making him worry. What if something had happened to Chi-Chi? He hadn't gone to check on her, having been to exhausted from his medication to bother getting out of bed, but he regretted that decision now. He hoped that whoever she had been shooting at had just been a stray maid giving her a hard time, but he couldn't be certain. Judging by the look on the large woman's face, though, he wondered if he had simply dreamed the whole thing up.

"You hear gun?" she asked, licking her dry lips as she glanced out of the window. Her face was serious as she said, her tongue rolling away with the northern accent, "Me, too. I thought was just me. I fell asleep again after."

Samuel's face fell as she said this, and he shook his head wearily. Then, half-joking, he asked, "You didn't see anybody dead in the hallway, did you?" He feared that Chi-Chi had finally found a target and was spending her time finding a proper burial ground for whoever it had been.

"No," Ninel said, her busy eyebrows furrowed together. "I saw nobody. There was no maids, no men, nobody." Then she noticed the troubled look on her master's face and asked, "What bothers you?" It was rare that the decrepit, old man's expression was so intense; as serious as his business was, he was usually laughing, making light of situations. But Ninel had known him long enough to realize that there was something more, considering she had raised him since he had just been a teenager.

"I just wish I knew where Chi-Chi was," he sighed, removing his reading glasses from his nose and placing them on top of the letter in his lap. "She doesn't think I notice, but she's been looking strangely over these past few weeks, especially after she found out that her daughter-in-law was pregnant."

"You think Mistress Kahn has baby?" the maid asked, shocked. At her age, bearing a child would be no simple task. But the man only laughed, showing how little he thought of this ridiculous notion.

His eyes drifted downward, glancing at the letter from his brother in his lap, as he said, "No, but I think that seeing the girl reminds her of herself when she was younger." He rubbed the parchment between his wrinkled fingers as he continued, quite confidently, "Now, if you weren't White's younger sister, I wouldn't tell you this, but I have to tell somebody." He had been bottling this fear up for a while, and he felt that he had to confide in somebody. He had always been taught to never trust, but apart from Chi-Chi, Ninel was the closest person to him. And so he sighed, rubbing some of the ink off that had been scribbled into the corner of the letter. "I think that her son reminds her of her ex-husband, the fighter. I've seen pictures of him, and I have to admit, the two of them nearly look identical. She hasn't brought the man up in a long time, and I think that's what worries me the most. She doesn't want me to think that she thinks about him a lot."

Samuel looked up, locking eye contact with his maid as she made her way back to the bedside, locking up the case of medications by its many latches. And in a gentler tone than he had remembered ever hearing from her, she said, "She does love you, Mister Kahn. And trust me; I do know what love is."

He nodded as she said this, knowing that it came from her heart. He said, "Thank you, Ninel. That means a lot." His gratitude was a bit fake, but he knew that the subject of love wasn't a foreign concept to this woman. She had done the incredible in her younger days, what with having dated all five of the Murasaki Brothers some time. But he couldn't simply take her words and knowledge and so easily apply them to his own life. There was no way to be certain that Chi-Chi did still love him. She had always been an independent woman, one that he had never been able to figure out. And this notion scared him as he decided to ask, hiding his fears, "Will you go find out if Chi-Chi is still here? I have to make sure she's safe."

The maid bowed down and backed out of the room with her case of medications, humbly saying, "Of course, Mister Kahn. Of course."


	87. Recap of Last Night

**Esplandian, you constantly amaze me with your knowledge of all things Dragon Ball. Anyways, I suppose this is a fitting time to explain how Samuel Kahn came into existence, a rather short explanation. When General Blue goes to Penguin Village in DB, he runs into a little boy called Obotchaman. In the original Japanese dub, General Blue is in love with this little boy. However, in the English dub, it's translated so that General Blue believes this boy to be his long-lost brother, Samuel. I thought this was an interesting idea, seeing as I originally had no background for Chi-Chi's husband (actually, I was originally going to call him Walter for some reason). So, in all technicality, even he is canon. Sort of. Anyways, enjoy this chapter with Ninel, who is also sort of technically canon (not really).**

It was with heavy footsteps that Ninel walked down the hallway, her clumsy motions filled with an indescribable grace from her youth. She certainly had come a long way since then, now sixty-six years old with a hunching back. But for her age, she was agile enough thanks to a nourishing diet and a healthy enough lifestyle, and she was certainly stronger than many of the younger maids. Though, considering exactly who her older brother was, it was no surprise that she would obtain this same burliness in her older age.

At least she was still standing, she noted happily, glad that she could do something to serve the younger man that was in charge of the household. Mister Kahn hadn't taken to aging well lately, and where he could have walked independently only a few years earlier, he required assistance to move about now. It had been disheartening, mainly because she remembered a time when he had run around as a young boy, so full of dreams and aspirations. And now, those all seemed to have faded.

Though she was technically his maid, she didn't refer to him as her master as the others did. She always had held some sort of superiority over him, especially when he had been younger and she technically had been deemed his guardian. She did call him Mister Kahn, but she had always called him that, even when he had just been a young boy. She was simply used to last names, something that she attributed to her brother having been a general in the army. Whenever she and her sister had visited that tall, red tower of his, he had always insisted they call him White. It was never Shirley, for one reason or another, and especially not in front of those devious ninjas on the second floor.

And so he was Mister Kahn, something she had grown to like the sound of.

When she rounded the curve of where two hallways met, she stopped in her tracks and widened her small eyes slightly. There was something white on the floor, catching her eye. She walked up to it and stooped down, picking up the soft fabric and scrutinizing it, turning it over in her hands. It looked to be a sleeve of some sort, torn not even at its seams. She placed it in her dress pocket, continuing her way up the stairs after having decided that the maids would probably be the best source for finding out the whereabouts of the elusive Mistress Kahn.

She panted a little once she reached the top of the steps. She carried lot of weight even for her strength, some of it muscle, most of it fat. With a hand placed to her chest as if to slow down her heart beat, she stayed there and clenched her eyes shut. She wasn't in the shape she had once been in, having let herself go over the years. But she wasn't particularly remorseful, having enjoyed life as it had come. There was not one thing about life she could ever regret, not when her mind was not expansive enough so as to allow her the brainpower to dwell over such matters. To be blunt, she was dull-minded. Most of the wits must have been passed on to her older brother, though of course, she had never regretted this.

Ninel allowed a hand to guide her along the wall as she lifted the skirts of her dress slightly as to assure she didn't trip. She glanced into the first two doors, cracked open with sleeping maids on their beds after a long shift of night duty. Then she came upon the third door, this one shut, and rapped upon it with her hammy fist. She waited, smoothing her dress down, as the door opened.

And there stood a young, rather haggard-looking maid, there being too many for Ninel's small mind to keep track of. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes a red tinge, but she tried her best to put on a pleasant air as she exclaimed, "Miss White! I wasn't expecting you to drop by!"

She fiddled with her long sleeves of her night dress, refusing to meet the wide woman face-to-face. Ninel could never understand why, but as kindly as she always treated these girls, they always treated her with a sort of delicate fear. She often wondered if it was because of her close relationship to Mister Kahn, never once attributing it to the possibility that they might have been afraid of her large stature or northern accent. And she allowed this foreign tongue to roll as she pushed aside all frivolities to ask, "Has you seen Mistress Kahn?"

The girl nodded and choked, "I-I meant to come get you last night, but you were asleep." And she moved out of the door frame so as to allow Ninel's eyes to rove past it, and even with her bad eyesight she could spot a figure laying on the other side of the tiny room. Her expression remained stoic as she entered, her strong arms having fallen to her side, but once she had approached Mistress Kahn's unconscious figure, she allowed her fingers to skim the top of the mattress. She simply stared down at Kahn's wife's body, what with her short, black hair sprawled out all over the place, the ends of her night dress hanging over the edge of the bed. And as she turned back around after having scrutinized the body, she noticed another woman, this one looking even worse than the other, sitting on the edge of the other bed in the room. So as to acknowledge the older woman respectfully, she muttered, "Miss White..."

"What happened here?" Ninel asked with her hands now once more on her plush hips. She had never seen Mistress Kahn fall asleep in the maid's quarters, but by the looks she was receiving, it didn't seem as if it had been as simple a matter as that. The girl on the bed turned expectantly to the one standing, who darted a glare towards her but gave in.

"We aren't exactly sure of everything that happened last night," the maid started, again anxiously running her dress sleeve through her hands as though it was a nervous habit of hers. "But the first thing is what Alexi told me about, but she obviously doesn't want to share it." She nudged towards the girl on her right with one shoulder, who scratched her dark head of hair. "Apparently, when she had taken over washing dishes for Mrs. Kahn, a man appeared in the window and scared her. She even used the frying pan against him, but it didn't work. She ran upstairs, and it wasn't until probably half an hour later that she saw him again." The girl nodded in confirmation, glancing towards Chi-Chi's figure.

"Well, she told me all about him. Tall, muscular guy, black, spiky hair, looks like he used to wear those ridiculous martial arts outfits that Mrs. Kahn keeps." She immediately clenched her teeth, hoping that her master's wife hadn't heard her dis the gi. "Anyways, she was coming back down for a glass of water when she saw him again. And he kidnapped her! He put his hand over his mouth to keep her from screaming and knocked her out! And he even tore her sleeve off!"

"Is this it?" Ninel inquired, producing the same, white sleeve she had found in the corridor. The girls blinked before the silent one leaned forwards and grabbed it tentatively from the woman's open palm, placing it in her lap. And before the two could ask questions, she explained, "I found it in the hall. It was on floor. Now, keep going."

The standing girl had stopped toying around with her sleeve for a moment but now resumed as she stuttered, "O-okay. Well, I found Alexi a few hours later on the front porch step, and I brought her up here. But that's not the strangest part." She paused, glancing towards Alexi, who only bobbed her head in approval. "There was a tiny woman floating in air - floating, I swear, kind of like how Mrs. Kahn's friends used to - and she told me that she had been saved from her doom. Then she just vanished!"

Ninel simply ignored this, thinking that it must have been too much alcohol getting to the girl's head. "Why Mistress Kahn in here? That all you know?"

"Well, we heard some rumors last night, rumors that I think must be true now," the girl confessed, now chewing at her bottom lip. "Apparently, there was a tall, green man that came and left pretty quickly, talking to Mrs. Kahn. And then Sarah said that as she was walking down the hallway, she saw a man fitting the exact same description that Alexi gave me. He didn't kidnap her, though. She ran down the stairs and got Mrs. Kahn, who was so angry she couldn't say two words. And apparently she had her rifle on her and just began shooting at him! And he caught every single bullet! In fact," she said, now lowering her voice to just above a whisper as if she was afraid of being caught in the telling of such a tale, "Sarah said that one even bounced off of him! And he wasn't fazed - not even a little!

"So then, Mrs. Kahn apparently bowed at his feet after trying to slap him. They talked some, and then they were about to try fighting. But he just picked her up and... they vanished." She cast her eyes warily to the side, as though expecting him to appear again. "A short man and a tall woman came and delivered Mrs. Kahn back to us, and I couldn't say anything because I was so scared! It was just... crazy!"

Ninel nodded, a frown set in place. She had had enough of this. Even in her home territory, folklore wasn't this mind boggling. She walked towards Mistress Kahn and scooped her up in her big arms and, without so much as a word, she left. She knew that Master Kahn wouldn't be pleased with such a ridiculous tale, one that she recognized even with her small brain capacity.


	88. Unsecured and Reassured

**Kind of a short chapter, but I thought that I'd take this time to add that, technically, Pigero is also a canon character. He'll explain his own background in due time. But, enjoy!**

Pigero watched the Son fellow warily. He was seated in a hunched over position on the floor of the cell, playing around with the drawstrings of his pants in a rather dejected manner. The soft sheriff's heart panged to see the man so belittled, and what had been such a happy face only half an hour ago had fallen miserably. But the other officer was just standing there, smirking all the while with a hand on his hip, obviously thinking over just how well he had done with trapping such a large fellow.

When he thought that Son wasn't paying any attention, he whispered, "Come over here - I need to talk to you." And the officer lifted his head in surprise, though he obliged. Once the short man approached him, he held him at arm's length by the shoulder and turned away from the jail cell so as to not allow the captured man to read his lips. Then he whispered quietly, "Don't you think we're being a little too harsh on him? He doesn't seem like all that bad a guy."

But the officer sneered, his hairy upper lip curled a little as he only reminded him with two words. "The fire?"

"Yes, but nobody got hurt," Pigero argued. He really didn't think that the man had purposely started the fire. He really didn't think that the man had purposely done anything in his life. He seemed absolutely clueless, like an overgrown child, something that intrigued Pigero. He had never met a man so naive or imaginative.

"If somebody said that for every bank robbery and just let robbers go, do you know how many repeats there would be?" the little man asked indignantly. He cared very much about the law, and he didn't believe in bending it for one person. Especially not when this was the first person in several months that he had fairly been able to toss into that jail cell, what with police work being uneventful around here.

Pigero shook his head and sighed, "This man is different. I mean, just look at him." And the two glanced over their shoulders, him still occupied with the tassels of his pants. "I don't know how well a cage will contain him. Did you see how he tore apart those handcuffs so easily?"

"Luck," the officer spat.

"Are you so sure?"

The officer leered at his superior, his dark eyebrows furrowing at this challenge. Pigero only removed the hand from his friend's shoulder and crossed his arms, watching as he turned around and made his way over towards the cell. There, Son's head lifted curiously as he saw the approaching officer, dropping the drawstrings to the concrete ground and straightening his posture slightly. And Son only watched, a set pout on his face, as the officer demanded, "Let me see your handcuffs." Certainly, if this suspicious man hadn't broken them by now, he couldn't really break handcuffs.

Goku lifted his hands to show him, his frown transforming into a smile with a certain pride of having kept the handcuffs intact just as he had promised. But he lifted his hands to far apart from one another, and the chain links between the two snapped. There were gasps of shock from around the room, but Goku's was perhaps the loudest. "Sorry!" he immediately exclaimed, glancing from one shackle to the next, then resting his gaze on one of the dangling chains as he lifted one hand above his head. He had truly meant to keep up with them, and from the looks the others were exchanging, it didn't look as though they were terribly happy.

The officers were both astonished, wondering just what this man was made of. But Pigero got over his awe more quickly, and he strolled to the side of the cage, wrapping a hand around one of the metal bars and just waiting. He stared down at Son with a certain intensity that had the man on the floor uneasy before he asked, "How did you do that?"

It had been such a clean, effortless motion, something that he hadn't seen from anybody, that he couldn't find much else to say. He doubted that even Hercule Satan could break handcuffs with as little force as this mysterious Son character displayed. Maybe this was really the World Martial Arts Champion's son. Or, heck, it might have even been him. But if this was Goku Son himself, then this man had aged better than he had, and Pigero was far younger. No, Goku Son would have to be in his fifties to have won a World Martial Arts Tournament a few years when Pigero had been only a few years old.

"I'm sorry, but it was on accident," Goku assured him as he lowered his arms back to his side in hopes that these men wouldn't be too angry. He seemed fairly pathetic just sitting there, pleading for their mercy when they probably should have been pleading for his, what with his being so strong. He bobbed his head slightly before brightening, suggesting, "You could get me some more! I promise that I'll be careful with them! I won't break them!"

And the eagerness in his tone to be shackled once more had both officers glancing warily towards one another. There was an air of lunacy that this man gave off, one that brought Pigero so far as to ask, "What are you still doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

Pigero hadn't meant to ask this question quite so bluntly, and it didn't surprise him that this Son fellow didn't understand it. He had never been forced to ask anybody this question, but he elaborated, "You can leave, can't you?" It certainly wouldn't be unexpected, seeing as Pigero was now expecting bizarre things from this man. "You have the strength to get out of this jail, don't you?" And behind him, a tiny officer seethed, as if hoping that this man would never figure that out. But it was only a matter of time, the chieftain knew.

This answer, however, did catch Pigero off-guard. "But why would I do that?"

Pigero only blinked a few times, registering just what Son had said. Did this man, convicted of a crime, really just ask why he would escape this prison? Never in all of his years had he expected such an answer, prompting him to lean further towards him, his large nose just within the cage's limits now, as he asked incredulously, "You weren't considering leaving?" And Son only shook his head, a startled expression on his face. And he was only further bewildered as Pigero withdrew himself from the cell bars and shook his own head, chuckling a little. Even the other officer watched in awe as his superior laughed, wondering just what was so funny. "You weren't thinking of leaving?" Another shake, and Pigero backed away from the cage, a hand clamped to his slightly protruding belly as he bellowed a rich laughter.

"Chief?" the other officer asked hesitantly, glancing suspiciously towards Goku to see just what he had done to get him to act so strangely. But Goku could only look on, unable to find just why his answers to all of these questions were so funny.

Before anybody knew it, Pigero's laughing bout was over. That crooked grin was still in place, though, as he approached the cell once more and asked, "How about we get you out of this cage, Son?"

"Sure!" Goku exclaimed as he jumped up to his feet swiftly, once again surprising the officers with the fluidity of his motions. A tentative smile immediately broke out as he tore off both pairs of shackles he had around his wrists, all the while thinking that this man in blue sure was funny. But Goku didn't mind. He needed a little funny in his life, especially if this man was willing to take him out of the cell. Certainly, Goku could have broken out himself, but he didn't want to, not when it would only make more people mad at him.

The other officer didn't seem so amused by this decision as he protested, "You certainly aren't about to-"

"I certainly am," Pigero interrupted him quickly, cutting off the rest of his refusal. He held his hand out and, rather begrudgingly, the officer handed him the set of keys. Then Pigero picked the largest one and placed it in the padlock, turning it in place. And as he opened the cage, the supposed martial artist bounded out exuberantly, doing so much so as to cartwheel out to the amazement of the pair. And Pigero could only shake his head and mutter, "This man is one-of-a-kind..."

"You sure you know what you're doing?" the officer asked, his arms crossed and his moustache bristling indignantly.

And Pigero's own dark moustache also twitched a little as he replied, "I think so."

He watched with interest as Son flipped through the air, as if to get some pent-up energy out that he had stored in only the fifteen minutes he had been locked up. But, quite suddenly, Goku stopped with his twists and turns to place a hand to his stomach and say, "I'm still hungry."

Pigero only nodded, glad to have met a creature as curious as this one. He had some plans for him. No, he wasn't planning on simply letting him go, not after being convicted of arson. He would be certain that this Son fellow payed all of his dues through some community service projects and plenty of manual labor. And he chuckled slightly to himself, closing his eyes. This Son character certainly wasn't very bright. What kind of a man with the strength to escape would remain locked up in jail? Only a weird breed of martial artists, he supposed. There was a reason why he didn't watch the World Martial Arts Tournament anymore, and it wasn't just because it was a givin' that Hercule Satan would win.


	89. Permanent Sick Leave

**Wow! It has been a really, really long time since I've updated, for which I apologize! I'll be honest - I hadn't realized just how behind on this story I was getting. Once again, I'm sorry, and I hope this chapter satisfies! As always... Enjoy!  
**

At the Satan mansion, the sun had begun peeking through the slits of the window blinds with the type of intensity that, when aligned perfectly with the eyes, could wake even the heaviest of sleepers. And it did such this particular morning, rousing a certain World Martial Arts champion from his nightmares of being found out for the fraud he was. Still, even with these distressing visions running under his eyelids, he didn't think the real world was much better. So with his eyes clenched more tightly together, he placed his hairy forearm over his face and rolled over.

But the sunlight persisted and it wasn't long before Hercule submerged himself in the darkness underneath a thick quilt he found on top of him. And it wasn't until then that he felt his large, coarse foot touch something of a gelatinous nature, sending a distinct shiver up his spine.

"What in the name of-"

He struggled out of his sheets, thrashing about to get them off of him. He leapt off of the bed and patted down the robe, finding himself to be in a rather unfamiliar bedroom that he had simply opened the door to and found last night, too fatigued to trudge back down to the little room still housing hospital equipment. His breathing heightened as he found his balance and spun back around, only to realize that he had had a bed companion that night. And as his fear eased slightly, though his heart didn't, he softly murmured, "Majin Buu..."

And there indeed was the giant, pink blob, having found himself in bed, underneath the covers, and next to his best friend. Hercule allowed a rough hand to graze his balding head as he looked at the thing sleeping peacefully, having not been disturbed from his slumber even with the racket the man had made. He stared in disbelief and shook his head as he pulled his maroon robe a little bit lower, as it had ridden up his leg slightly when he had been asleep.

Hercule allowed his shoulders to relax as his heart did, and after a last glance at Buu, he decided that he would leave the sleeper alone. He was still a little skittish from having come to his senses that morning due to such a surprise, so after he opened the door, he jumped back with shock as one of the older maids passed by with a feather duster in hand. Her eyebrows raised as she observed him, but she kept going on after a little mumble about hoping Master Satan had had a good night's rest. And Hercule only shook his head once more, wondering just what had gotten into him.

With a small chuckle of false confidence, Hercule continued his stroll down the corridor. He was on the second floor, he noticed, and was right next to the staircase. Without debate, he decided to go downstairs; it was too early for Pan to be up yet, so there was no use in waking her, and he didn't really want to deal with his son-in-law and daughter who had seemed to just rediscover their love for one another.

He guided himself down the steps a little slowly, allowing his fingers to trail over the fancy, golden railing. When he reached the foot of the stairs, he found himself all alone in the large kitchen. It was well-lit, but it seemed as though the chef had disappeared off to some place or another. Hercule only shrugged to himself and glanced at the time, reading the clock to say seven-thirty. He would have just enough time to eat, take a shower, and maybe head over to the gym in the first time in half a year before giving his son-in-law a stern talking-to. That boy needed some discipline if he thought he could get away with treating his precious daughter badly.

Hercule looked over the kitchen again, immediately feeling a bead of sweat form on his large forehead. It had been years since he had cooked for himself, and that hadn't been since he had served Majin Buu on hand-and-foot in an attempt to keep him from destroying the planet. He cupped his dimpled chin in his hand and scanned the place quickly with his dark eyes, wondering just where that chef could have gotten off to. He was never late, and the kitchen was lit up as if somebody had been planning on cooking. In fact, with closer observation, Hercule realized that a frying pan was already waiting on the stove top.

So where was that chef?

The World Martial Arts Champion heard soft footsteps behind him, only to see yet another maid, this one younger but even more forlorn. She didn't seem to notice him as she scurried by the kitchen, and so Hercule ran after her a moment and asked, "Have you seen Rodrick?"

"Rodrick?" the mousy woman asked with a hint of surprise, turning around with a rather hunched posture. Her bottom lip quivered nervously as she continued, "He was here earlier, at about six, but I haven't seen him since."

Hercule furrowed his forehead and simply harrumphed, marching back towards the kitchen and leaving the bashful woman back to her duties. He placed a firm hand on the granite counter top, the other on his hip. He set his jaw in place before allowing his eyes to roam around, as if hoping that Rodrick would pop out of nowhere. And then his eye caught something rather inconspicuous, laying innocently on the counter top. He reached forth and picked the tiny piece of crinkly paper up. It was a light yellow and appeared to be a... candy wrapper.  
Without even realizing why, Hercule's heart seized. The paper jumped from his hands and landed back on the counter as he leapt back with shock. He looked at his hardened hands that had touched the poor, little piece of paper, and Hercule immediately knew. It had been years since such a fear had been realized, but Hercule knew.

"MAJIN BUU!" Hercule yelled at the top of his lungs, a mixture of anger and fear taking hold of the man. He abandoned the little piece of paper, once Chef Rodrick, as he dashed out of the kitchen and back up those stairs more quickly than he had in years. He couldn't roar with his voice so scratchy in the morning, but as he reached the second landing, he choked out another, "MAJIN BUU!"

He flung the door open to the room he had fallen asleep in without hesitation, causing the shiny knob to thud against the plaster of the wall and create a small indenture with a surprising strength he hadn't utilized in years. But at that moment, he couldn't care about that. His little friend had gone back on his promise, and that was to never turn anybody into a sweet. He had never gotten this worked up about it, but that was because it had been years since Majin Buu had actually done it. And in that time, he had grown so close to the pink blob that he felt comfortable chastising him and telling him off without fear of him retaliating. It was true that it had been almost a year since he had seen the pink thing, which had created some discomfort when handling the thing just the night before, but this was a new day. And Hercule Satan wasn't about to be pushed around.

He stormed to the bed furiously, though he found his breath die from his lungs as he looked down at Buu, who was rubbing his eyes and blinking himself awake so innocently that for one second, and one second alone, Hercule considered not beating down on him about this. The pink blob pulled its yellow, rubber gloves away from his weary eyes and, before Hercule could unleash his wrath, it chirped, "Good morning, Mr. Satan! You sleep good?"

So caught off-guard, Hercule began mumbling, "Yes, but, well..." Then he coughed in a dignified manner, shaking away his nerves. Now that he was here in front of his friend, he didn't really want to tell him off, but he had to think of Chef Rodrick again. With a second wind, Hercule heaved deeply and began sharply, "You can't eat people, Majin Buu. I know you ate Chef Rodrick, so don't try any of your tricks with me."

And instead of the threatening yelling session Hercule had intended giving, he found himself waggling his finger at his friend's blubbery face and continuing, "I told you to never eat people, and I know that Rodrick didn't just up and disappear to nowhere!" Majin Buu eyes were a little wide, but his expression was vacant save for a subtle curiosity. He cocked his head slightly to the side after sitting up straight, his tiny legs spread out and his pants puffed up rather comically, as though he was just an infant listening to an adult's meaningless lecture. "There's no excuse for eating people, Majin Buu, so just 'fess up! I know you did it!"

"Buu eat man," Buu admitted freely, a tiny smile on his face as he did so. He said it so shamelessly that Hercule felt his jaw drop, feeling as though everything he had ever taught his friend had gone to waste. But Buu explained his clean conscience by saying, "Bad man say eating people good! Helps bad man!"

"Bad man?" Hercule asked gruffly, his voice shocked. He had heard Buu reference that man before, but he didn't give himself a long enough time to ponder over the name before he contorted his face fiercely and poked his finger into his friend's fleshy chest. "Don't ever listen to bad men, Buu! They're called bad for a reason!"

To his surprise, Buu lowered his head as though he had been whipped into obedience and quietly said, "Sorry, Mr. Satan. Buu no eat people anymore." Hercule had had another line of sayings and quips to reprimand his fat friend with, but the shame clearly written on his friend's face took that steam out of him. Instead of going on to make Buu feel even worse, Hercule decided to sit down on the edge of the bed and spread the wrinkles of the quilt out so as to give him something to do. Then, when he finally looked back up, he saw Buu's face up to his. "Mr. Satan mad at Buu?" he asked a bit fearfully as he pulled at his rubber gloves.

"'Course not, Buu," he replied, trying to muster a smile on his face. And Hercule was fairly good at that, considering the amount of bluffing he did every day. He saw Buu's face brighten as he continued more cheerily, "As long as you know that what you did was wrong, there's nothing you can do. But no more, okay?"

"Okay!" And the two sat there for a moment with Buu watching ever single move his friend made, allowing his hand to absentmindedly run over the quilt as he thought over getting a replacement for Rodrick. But as that bothered Hercule, something seemed to be bothering the pink glob. Buu's forehead furrowed in thought as he watched Hercule, but it wasn't long before he stated, "Bad man mean."

Hercule lifted his head once more, automatically asking, "What do you mean, Majin Buu?"

It wasn't everyday that he got to hear the innard's of his friend's brain, seeing as he didn't really have opinions on anything but sweets. But Buu seemed very adamant about this point, something he seemed to have just remembered when Mr. Satan had told him to not ever listen to bad men. He allowed a sigh to escape as his pink belly jiggled before explaining, "Bad man call Buu fat. Buu no like that."

Perspiration formed very quickly on Hercule's forehead as he hastily assured his friend, "You're not fat! No, in fact, you're as fit as a horse! You're in great shape, Majin Buu!" He waved his arms to emphasize his point, but Buu still didn't seem pleased.

"Bad man call Mr. Satan weak."

Weak? It was Hercule's turn to furrow his forehead as he pondered over this. Somebody had called him weak? Then it meant that this 'bad man' Majin Buu continued to talk about actually knew Hercule, and something in Buu's mannerisms didn't make Hercule think it was just some old high school enemy trying to get back at him with a few jabs. A certain cold ran through Hercule as he skipped the brainstorming process and promptly insisted, "Who called me weak, Majin Buu? Who is this bad man?"

"Bad man who strong. Bad man who turn yellow. Bad man who no like parties."

And as if right on cue, a clear voice rang from down the hall, "Mr. Satan? Are you there?" It was Gohan, somebody that he had wanted to talk to. But not anymore. The moment he heard that voice, Hercule's mind clicked. Gohan was strong. Gohan did that weird trick where his hair turned gold and he had that strange aura. But worst of all, Gohan didn't like parties. Hercule hadn't been around Gohan and Buu together for the past half a year, and he wasn't exactly certain of what interaction they could have had during that time. In fact, it would almost make sense that Gohan would ask Buu to turn Rodrick into a piece of candy; the boy had claimed that last week's veal had been rancid.

The footsteps were coming closer, and Hercule's heart lurched for what felt like the hundredth time already that day. He quickly dove underneath the covers and buried his under the fluffy pillow as a tall figure appeared at the doorway. That particular figure caught sight of Buu and automatically assumed he had reached the right room, explaining, "One of the maids told me they'd seen you asleep on one of the room on the second floor. I decided to come find you to explain some more about... last night..."

His words trailed off as he caught sight of a quivering mass of blankets. He readjusted the glasses perched on his nose as though they could help him confirm that he was actually seeing the World Martial Art's champion cowering in fear of something. It wasn't an odd sight, but it was that peaceful morning. Gohan glanced back to reassure himself that his father-in-law wasn't afraid of something behind him, but the area behind his shoulder was vacant.

Peculiar, he thought, but it didn't stop Gohan from stepping forth and repeating with great uncertainty, "Mr. Satan?" He kept one hand clasped on the door frame as his eyes darted from a shocked Buu to the lump underneath the covers.

"Don't come any closer!" he heard a muffled voice yell through the layers he had submerged himself in. "If you come any closer, I'll use my martial arts on you! You don't want me to do that!"

Gohan blinked a few times before deciding to back out, seeing as Buu seemed to be getting more than just a little upset that his friend was so afraid. He shook his head to himself and went downstairs, wondering if this day could get any stranger than the night before had been. And when he reached the kitchen, he noticed that Rodrick was gone.

That was certainly strange. Rodrick had never been sick a day in his life.


	90. Unnerving Resemblance

**I've been wanting to put this up for a week, but FF has been coming up with error messages, which isn't my fault. What is my fault, though, is that this story is moving painfully slowly with my infrequent updates, all for which I apologize. School has really been hitting me hard, but I promise that by this summer, I'll be back on regular updates. As is my custom for every tenth chapter, I want to thank all of my readers! You all do inspire me.**

Bulma was still hunched over the breakfast table, halfheartedly swirling her spoon through the soggy remains of her wheat cereal. She finally released the spoon and allowed it to sit in the bowl as she sank into an open hand, leaning forth with her other hand clenching the wooden chair's seat. She massaged her temple as she shook her head, unable to comprehend just what had happened to Yamcha. If he had disappeared, did that mean that Vegeta was already here?

She was not a stupid woman, and so she immediately cleared her head of that thought. She was jumping to conclusions unnecessarily - for all she knew, Yamcha could be afraid of something completely different than Vegeta. It wasn't necessarily her ex-husband that had frightened him. It could have been Goku, or maybe even Piccolo. That green alien was enough to give anybody the creeps, and if he was heading to Kami's Lookout, she knew that he would likely encounter the Namekian. But there was something strange in the man's hesitation to reveal his fear to her, meaning that there was something he knew that she didn't.

Or this might have all just been some big misunderstanding. Maybe he just went out the night before to get a drink to assuage his fears, and he ended up falling asleep at the bar. It didn't sound like Yamcha, but she knew that in his youth, he hadn't minded a drink or two. And he had started with this gambling obsession as of the late, though he had never stayed out all night gambling. Usually, he would just win a few hands and then leave, but he might have gotten caught up in a game of poker.

That was it. He had to have just been playing a game.

A false sense of relief swept the blue-haired woman as she allowed herself to believe such a lie. Yes, Yamcha had to have simply been somewhere with a few friends he met, gambling away her inheritance. And that was more satisfying than the unmentionable alternative, one that involved a short Saiyan with spiky hair. She breathed her anxieties out of her lungs and sat up straight once more, able to continue eating her breakfast with the thought that her Yamcha was safe.

She devoured the tiny bowl of cereal, now a mushy mess, in no time at all. After scooping up the last of the wheat into her mouth, she pushed her chair back and meandered towards the sink. She started losing confidence, and by the time she placed her bowl into the sink and began washing it out, she had managed to snap herself out of her daydream. There was no way this had to do with gambling or drinking, she realized. There was something vexing Yamcha, something that he couldn't compete with. And something in Bulma's gut told her that it had to be Vegeta. Yamcha had been weak when he had first met her, falling at his knees at almost everything he saw. But over the years, he had become more confident. Probably cockier, too. He didn't back down to much, except for perhaps a fight from a Saiyan. And something told her that this was more than just a fight with a demi-Saiyan; he was struggling against a full-fledged Saiyan, one that he had considered his enemy from the first day.

So distracted by these troubling thoughts, she didn't notice her daughter's presence until she heard a tired voice yawn, "Good morning, Mom. How'd you sleep?" She almost dropped the bowl into the bottom of the sink, but she somehow managed to keep her grip on it as she spun around and saw her daughter stretching her arms out. Bulma blinked a few times, surprised that her daughter had already woken up, when she glanced towards the clock. Nearly half an hour had passed during that time she was slumped over, idly picking at her cereal.

"Fine," she stated abruptly, but Bulla didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. The woman eyed her daughter carefully as she went to fetch herself some cereal, pulling a box out of the pantry. Bulma set the bowl down in the sink after giving it a last rinse of the faucet, but before she could say a thing, she found her daughter looking up at her as she opened the cardboard box of cereal.

"Have you heard from Yamcha yet?" Bulla asked, turning her eyes away from her mother's only to measure out her cereal as she poured it. But after closing the box, she took careful note of her mother's clenched jaw. Bulla exhaled slightly as she turned around and put the box back up where she found it. Then, already knowing her mother's answer, she changed her question. "Where do you think he is?"

"I don't know," Bulma admitted as she crossed her arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter. She shook her head and looked towards the door, preoccupying her agitated hands by drying them with a washcloth. "He's never been gone all night before, and I can't imagine where he's gone to." Her head was tilted downwards, but she still watched her daughter from the corner of her eye as the blue-haired girl fetched the milk from the fridge rather indifferently. There was a strange confidence in her daughter's motions, but she chose not to point it out. She only closed her eyes before placing the washcloth back on the stone counter, releasing a deep sigh of anxiety.

Bulla noticed her mother's nervous state and said, "Don't worry, Mom. I've got a plan."

This brought Bulma's attention back to her daughter, and she immediately asked, "A plan?" Plans weren't formulated when things were okay. They were formulated in times of necessity, but by the way that her daughter poured the milk from the jug and set it down indifferently, it didn't appear that Bulla was terribly nonplussed by this whole disappearance. This brought a fake smile to Bulma's face as she tried to chuckle, but ended up choking, "A plan? What in Kami's name do we need a plan for, Bulla?"

"To get Dad back."

Bulma stiffened at this, her mind immediately turning back to Vegeta. It was rare that Bulla called Yamcha her father, and that was only playfully for the most part. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she repeated, "Dad?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'm going to get Dad back so I can finally meet him."

So she was speaking of Vegeta, but that only puzzled Bulma further, her feelings rather mixed with a certain fear of her words. "You... you want to meet your father? Vegeta?" She blinked a few times as Bulla nodded, placing a spoon into her cereal as she sat down. "But... but..." So many questions coursed through the scientist's mind, starting with just why she would ever want to meet her father. Instead, though, she asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I figure that since this Goku's here, Dad'll probably return," she explained with a slight shrug. "I mean, that's what Yamcha seems to think at least. It's why he left." And she began munching on her breakfast, considerably calmer than her panicking mother.

Bulla was smart, Bulma couldn't deny. This confirmed her own theory, her worst nightmare. If Vegeta was returning... what would happen? Her nightmare from the night before flashed before her eyes, and she shuddered involuntarily. There was no telling what the Saiyan was like now. He had grown decent and soft, even, in those last few years before his departure. But how would years of space training have changed him?

What would life be like with Vegeta again?

Bulma recovered after a few seconds, and she felt blood rush back into her flushed face as she decided to ignore this observation on her daughter's part. "So... I take it that you didn't find Yamcha?" she instead asked in a feeble voice, subconsciously raking her fingers through her hair. She was now grasping desperately at anything to turn her mind away from the Saiyan prince, even though she already knew the answer to her question.

As she expected, Bulla shook her head. "No, I didn't find him, Mom." However, the girl wasn't finished and, after chewing the remains of the cereal in her mouth and swallowing, she admitted, "But I've got a hunch."

"A hunch?" This morning was filled with the mother repeating her daughter's words like a parrot, but so many things that the girl said were astonishing her this morning. It had been a while since the two of them had enjoyed mother-daughter bonding time, and had she been less distracted and disturbed, she might have mentally noted to take a trip to the spa the next week with her. But even the president of Capsule Corporation couldn't think of her own needs for the moment, so perturbed by this whole business of Vegeta's possible return. And now Bulla might just know where Yamcha had disappeared off to?

This girl was definitely the daughter of a cunning Saiyan and a multi-billionaire and the step-daughter to a bandit. She had just the right about of treachery to not tell her mother right off the bat what was going through her mind, allowing her mother to anticipate her every movement, her every sentence. It was finally when Bulla had eaten a few more bites that she recited yesterday's account, "I decided to look around the city last night to look for him. I tried waking you up, but you just fell back asleep. So I went out alone and tried to find him myself." Bulma fidgeted, having told her daughter several times not to ever wander around alone outside late at night. Demi-Saiyan or not, the city was dangerous.

But she dismissed this wave of motherly protection to allow her daughter to continue uninterrupted, "I couldn't find him, so I decided to stop by some late-night cafe. Then I saw Piccolo, of all people, and he told me that he was looking for Goku. Now, if Piccolo was here, I can only assume that he's our first lead. Right? I mean, there's nothing else that could really bring him here without having something to do with Yamcha's disappearance. It was probably why he didn't want me to go with him."

"Piccolo was here in West City?" Bulma asked, amazed. It had been a while since she'd laid eyes on the green man, not since the last company party he'd actually attended. And that had ended in disaster, what with the irritated Namekian almost obliterating a man for commenting that he seemed to be sickly with his green skin. He hadn't even returned for private parties after that incident, so perturbed by that little jab as he was. If Piccolo was sensitive in any way, it was only when people pointed him out from the rest. He liked to remain undisturbed and, unfortunately, green skin did nothing but draw attention.

"Yeah, he was looking for Goku," Bulla reminded her mother before shoveling another spoon of cereal into her mouth. She was almost finished already, reminding Bulma that she was the daughter of a Saiyan prince. But she had to keep her thoughts away from Vegeta to focus on the matter at hand of Yamcha's whereabouts as Bulla declared, "I'm going to go find Piccolo, Mom."

There was silence after this statement, not a question in the slightest. She had obviously been thinking over it that previous night, calculating everything that could possibly go wrong. Bulla never moved unless she was certain of the next step in her puzzle, and with the confidence she had said this, Bulma knew that her daughter thought she knew just what she was up against. But Bulla, almost fortunately, didn't know Piccolo as well as her mother. And she certainly didn't know Vegeta as well, should she happen upon him.

Bulma watched as her daughter stood up, and she finally noticed her daughter's attire as she zipped up her loose jacket. She wasn't in pajamas; she was in day clothes, as though prepared to leave Capsule Corporation on some crazy quest, much as she had done so many years ago in search of the Dragon Balls. But this, this was far more noble than her longing for a boyfriend - this was a quest to find her step-father and to perhaps meet her father for the first time in living memory. Bulma was so shocked by the similarity she had never noticed between her daughter and herself that she could only watch as Bulla moved passed her, placing the empty bowl in the sink before putting the milk back up into the fridge.

Something clicked in Bulma's brain as her daughter moved towards the door, and her instincts immediately kicked into action. "Wait!" she yelped, lunging forth and grabbing her daughter by the wrist before she made it halfway out of the kitchen. Bulla's eyes widened with surprise at the pleading expression on her mother's face and the desperation with which her arm was pulled.

"You can't leave, Bulla. You just can't." Bulma knew that if Bulla left, she wouldn't be returning by that night. She remembered her own adventures and how long they were, and she didn't want to be left alone. She didn't have anybody else to fall back on, seeing as it seemed everybody had taken to leaving her lately. She had grown so dependent on others that she couldn't be abandoned, not at a time like this. But she covered up her own selfishness by exclaiming, "It's too dangerous, Bulla! You'll... you'll get hurt! You don't know what you're up against!"

With an untapped power laying within, Bulla easily tore her arm out of her mother's grasp, leaving her poor mother to stumble forth a few steps. Bulma watched with awe as Bulla fashioned her blue hair into a ponytail with a hairband tied around her wrist, becoming a spitting image of the woman when she had only been sixteen-years-old and starting her own life's journey. Then Bulla pulled out a case of capsules and said, "I'll be fine. I've got everything I need right here."

Her heart lurched as Bulla pulled some sneakers onto her feet, hopping in place as she moved closer towards the door. Then, without even a glance at her mother too off-kilter to stop her daughter, she yelled behind her shoulder, "Love you, Mom! I won't be gone for too long!" Then the door slammed shut.

Bulma regained her balance by gripping on to the back of a wooden chair. Her legs trembled slightly as she stared towards the door, realizing that it would be impossible to catch up. The girl was a demi-Saiyan, for Kami's sake, and it would only be a matter of time before she realized just what that meant. Bulma placed her hand to her forehead and shook her head, stress creasing her flawless skin.

'Too long'. She had told her parents that same thing. In fact, that whole sentence had practically been her last sentence to her parents before running off on a crazy adventure involving seven Dragon Balls, one talking pig, and one boy who would, in due time, learn he was a Saiyan. But those two words had no meaning anymore. What was 'too long', anyways? Vegeta had certainly been gone for too long, as had Goku. But they were both grown men. What did 'too long' mean when those words were used by your only daughter, ready to escape her mother's grasp and find her own adventure? Bulma's forehead furrowed with worry. There was no definition of 'too long' to rely upon, meaning that she would either have to take it into her own hands to make sure that her daughter got back alright or she would have to simply trust her daughter.

Bulma patted her disheveled hair back into place as she stood upright. She listened to the roaring of the hover car starting up outside, and she only shook her head with a scowl set in place. She wasn't only angry - she was irritated, too. But there was nothing she could do, she realized. There was no choice to be made, not when she was nearing sixty years of age and only a human.

She hoped Bulla could defend herself.


	91. Surprise Satellite Appearance

**I must admit, I hadn't thought about how that whole 'too long' in the last chapter really applied to me. I keep promising that the next update won't take 'too long', but it ends up taking 'too long'. Anyways, I hope this is quick enough - I'll try being better about my updates. Enjoy!**

Gohan readjusted the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he glanced up from the morning newspaper. He was seated at the kitchen island on a bar stool, both feet clad in wooly, black socks and resting on the circular, metallic rod connecting the seat's legs. Aside from missing his shoes and a coat, he looked almost ready to teach class. He even had his tie around his neck, admittedly very loose, but still around his neck all the same. Today was Monday, however, and there was no class to be taught. Not in the morning, at least - his classes wouldn't start up until the afternoon.

He had cleaned himself up so as to make a good impression on his father-in-law. After returning home such a mess the night before, he felt as though making himself presentable would be the only way to redeem himself in Hercule's eyes. That shower last night had helped to clean out most of the blood in his hair, but this morning, he brushed his messy hair out only to find yet another blotch of dried blood. That had called for yet another shower, and then, after dressing up some, he had come downstairs to look for the man. Only, when he found the World Martial Arts Tournament champion, he had found him huddled up in bed with Buu, scared to death of the demi-Saiyan for some reason or another.

Gohan shook his head slightly at that thought, turning his attention back to the newspaper in his hands. Mr. Satan would have to face him some time that morning, and Gohan was determined to make it the moment he gathered the courage to come back down. A quick confrontation would be the easiest, and the earlier, the better. Gohan's head always seemed to work more clearly when the sun was still rising in the east, though his thoughts were rather muddled this particular morning.

Gohan wasn't certain of how he had offended his father-in-law, though he supposed it might have been with the state he had appeared the night before. At the same time, though, Gohan didn't really care. The man's memory was lacking and, he was certain that within a couple of hours, the man would come downstairs and forget his fear of his son-in-law. Or so Gohan could hope.

Gohan gritted his teeth slightly, his easy anger over the years resurfacing. He managed to keep it down, though, but closing his eyes. What was really bothering Gohan was not his concern about his father-in-law's forgiveness, but rather the lack of service this morning! Rodrick still hadn't appeared, even after a half-hour of waiting with his coffee, and he thought that this was inexcusable. The real problem, however, was not that Rodrick wasn't there, but that Gohan couldn't cook a dish to save his life. He hadn't been forced to cook for himself since staying in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber at eleven years of age, and so instant rice was the limit of his culinary knowledge. At that moment, however, he longed for eggs and bacon.

He coughed a little before reaching for the coffee sitting on the table. He hadn't even taken the time to glance at the front page, confident that whatever he was looking for would be found deep within the newspaper. He was searching for small signs, tiny details that the media picked up on that would hint to a crazy demi-Saiyan rampaging all over the world. He sipped the coffee as his dark eyes scanned the interior of the paper, knowing that it was highly likely that Trunks had done something insane the day before that Gohan hadn't known about due to being so preoccupied with his father-in-law's health.

But now Mr. Satan was healed, and so Gohan could ponder over this new matter at hand. From what Gohan had seen of Trunks, he had rightly assumed that he was a lunatic. His movements had been jerky the night before and his thought processes sporadic. Not very impressive, Gohan mused now, though he couldn't help but note that the insanity had managed to scare him at the time. Looking back, however, Gohan wasn't worried. He could always put the purple-haired man back in place if necessary, and if he couldn't, surely his father could.

There was still something unsettling, though, about seeing the man so crazy. He looked so like his future counterpart, even though he was about eight years older. It was the harshness of living out on his own that had finally cracked him, no father to keep him the spoiled brat he had once been. But a dangerous reaction had taken place inside the younger man's head, a mixture between the pride Vegeta had drilled into his head, the selfishness acquired from living in luxury growing up, and the sudden threat from outside forces during his time alone that morphed him. Now he was a different Trunks than Gohan had ever known, and he wondered briefly of just how long he had been there. When had he come back? And more importantly, why had he come back?

It bewildered Gohan that this was indeed the same man he had known over twenty years ago. Future Trunks was so kind and generous, so selfless. But this Trunks was unstable, something that he had sensed in the man during those teenage years after Buu had been brought down. Then there had been the matter of his mother marrying Yamcha, and that had been enough to complete Trunks' transformation. He wasn't the same man he was supposed to be.

Gohan sighed after skimming through several articles that disappointingly lacked some hidden significance. He supposed that it was probably best that Trunks hadn't been up to anything, and he hadn't noticed anything strange in the news of the late. So Gohan decided to flip the newspaper on to the front page. And what he saw surprised him, his hand jerking and spilling some hot coffee on his ironed, white shirt. The headline, in large, bold-faced font, read: MOON APPEARS AGAIN FOR FIRST TIME IN THIRTY YEARS.

Gohan didn't even tend to the coffee stain on his shirt, his shaky hand placing the mug back onto the counter as he gazed blankly at the article. There was a large picture of a crescent in the sky, white against the black ink. Gohan felt his heartbeat quicken as he muttered, "No way..."

The moon? There was no way that it could simply reappear in the sky. It was simply impossible, to put it matter-of-factly. Gohan's eyes grazed over the article, picking up important snippets that jumped out to him. First spotted high in the sky in Sector 39. Claimed to have appeared out of nowhere. Witnessed all over this half of the world.

The time it appeared would have been soon after getting back to the Satan Mansion. Gohan shook his head, knowing that it definitely hadn't been there on his way or he would have spotted it. No, the only way this could happen would be with the use of the Dragon Balls, and Gohan thought that Dende had been too preoccupied to have used the Dragon Balls last night. Gohan knew that Piccolo always kept one Dragon Ball hidden for protection, something that Piccolo didn't even know he knew, but he couldn't imagine Piccolo having wished the moon back. It didn't make any sense.

But an idea occurred to the demi-Saiyan, one that didn't seem terribly unreasonable. What if Piccolo kept that Dragon Ball hidden at Kami's Lookout? There was only one man there who would be insane enough to wish for the moon to return, and Gohan thought he had a pretty good idea of who it was.

Trunks.

Gohan immediately pushed his stool back from the counter and, ignoring the stain on his shirt, started towards the front door. He would deal with his father-in-law later, but as of now, it would be important to make sure that everybody knew exactly what Trunks had done. There was a reason that moon was destroyed, but could it prove dangerous now? There were no Saiyans left with tails, ready to destroy the planet. He remembered his own power from years ago, though he hadn't been able to control it. He only remembered the remains of clearings around him, mountains having been taken down to rubble.

After a quick glance over his shoulder to assure that nobody was watching, he reached back to touch his lower back. He ran his hand over the tiny lump that remained from the tail he had once possessed and had cut off, having not given a second thought to the mark in a long time. It was simply a dark blotch now with his skin having grown over it in present years, but it was still there. He gritted his teeth and lowered his head so that the glasses perched on his nose were in danger of sliding off. But at that moment, he was too absorbed in what this reappearance of the moon could mean to reposition the glasses in a safer position.

There was something that bothered him about this wish, and that was the idea that Trunks had really been hiding his tail from the rest of them. He wasn't certain of how simple it would be to hide a tail, seeing as he had never tried with his own, but it could be possible. After all, he had been away for so long that it would have been simple for the madman to have concocted some plan to hide this truth behind the others' backs.

That, however, brought up several questions. How could Trunks have acquired a tail if he hadn't had one at birth? That, Gohan knew, was the plain truth. There was no way that Vegeta would allow his own son's tail to be removed, not when he prized it himself. And did the tail simply grow? Was there something that allowed it to grow?

Gohan had to stop himself, to prevent himself from getting ahead of himself. The real question was whether there was indeed a tail or not, but Gohan couldn't help but think that this had the Briefs name stained in it. Goten didn't care enough about anything to gather the Dragon Balls, but Trunks did. And they, the only three demi-Saiyans left in existence, were the only ones that would have made the wish. His father was too ignorant to wish for a moon to return, and as for Vegeta - well, as far as Gohan was concerned, Vegeta had long since disappeared. There was nobody left of Saiyan blood, or at least nobody he could think of. And as weak as they were, he didn't give a thought to Bulla or his own daughter, Pan.

He ignored Mr. Satan, who had finally managed to find the courage to come downstairs, and swung the front door open. An anger began boiling inside him, one like what he had harbored for several years, up until the night before. But Gohan reminded himself to calm down, to not lash out. He didn't want to suffer another humiliating defeat from his father, but he was determined to make sure that Trunks hadn't been the one to wish the moon back, having escaped Mr. Popo's watch. Or, if he had, Gohan wanted to make sure that Trunks didn't have a tail growing out of his backside. And he wanted to see the evidence with his own two eyes.


	92. Orphan Memories

**All filler characters have to make a debut, I think. You all have to remember the orphans from Gohan's training time with Piccolo, right? Well, you'll notice that one of them has become rather successful, being police chief of an island. Enjoy! **

Emily Pigero was a quiet woman. She kept to her own business and was rather shy, leading to some neighbors to claim her to be unfriendly. But it was quite the opposite, as she did enjoy outside interaction, though she oftentimes found it to be uncomfortable. She rarely had friends over for this timid nature, and on the rare occasion that Jeff had somebody over from the police station, she always became incredibly nervous at the prospect of being the best hostess she could be. So when Jeff called to announce that he was bringing a man over whom she had never met for an early lunch, her anxieties bubbled over.

She was busy at work in the kitchen, preparing a fruit salad. Her husband hadn't given her any details as to exactly what this unknown guest would eat, but seeing as he was apparently a foreigner, she decided that settling with Mango Island's delicacies would be the best way to welcome him. She had a small dish of ham already cooking in the oven, bathing in pineapple juice for flavor. She had cleared off the dining table full of her own clutter, not being the most organized of people, and she had even set two beers in the fridge just for the two men. She certainly did want to make a good impression, as she was somewhat aware of what some of the small island's gossipers said about herself, and she thought this to be the perfect opportunity to make amends to her reputation.

She pushed the assortment of chopped fruit into an empty bowl and gave it a good shake, the pieces tossing about as she did so. She furrowed her small forehead, though, as she thought of one thing Pigero had told her about this stranger, and it was that he was rather odd. Childish, he claimed, in a way that seemed unnatural. And, of course, towards the end of the conversation, he had added that he was an arson just before saying good-bye and hanging up. Now, Emily may not have been the keenest woman on the island, but she did believe that this was a rather dangerous combination. Jeff had never invited a criminal before, so she was interested to see just what differentiated this one from the rest, besides this childish disposition.

She set the glass bowl on the kitchen counter before glancing towards the window, and right on time, too. She could see her husband approaching the small, one-story bungalow with a tall man wearing rather tattered, blue clothes. She blinked a few times as her eyes were immediately drawn to the spiky hair defying gravity, a rather odd sight if she had ever seen one.

After quickly wiping her hands on a clean dishrag and trying to promptly fold it nicely, she rushed towards the front door in the next room over. She patted her hands unnecessarily on the apron around her waist and refastened her brown hair into a bun before pushing the door open to greet the two. She gave a small, anxious wave as the two approached, and to her surprise, the larger man gave a hearty wave in return. Jeff chuckled lightly by his side, and Emily's figure slumped against the frame of the door as she scrutinized the man's face. She had only seen that innocent, carefree expression on the faces of some of the kids at the school, and never had she seen in it on the face of a supposed criminal. Something was strange, but she couldn't help but smile gently.

"Hey, Emily!" she heard her husband call once he was in closer proximity, and she saw that he had his hand firmly on his newfound friend's back as though guiding him in the right direction. She noticed the tall man glance around curiously, taking in the green foliage of the island even in this more urban area. Of course, it was a rather pitiful excuse for a city, as its roads weren't even paved and there was no public transportation. Some families did own hovercrafts, but it was rare to see one used.

She smiled bashfully, certain that it was this awkward air she had about her that made it difficult to speak to strangers. But this man her husband had invited over seemed different, and he didn't seem to be observant enough to notice just how stiff she was as she invited them in with a small, "Welcome. It's good to meet you." She nodded her head as she allowed the two to pass by her, tracking dirt into the messy house. But she didn't even notice, so absorbed by this mysterious man as she was.

There was a certain air, she observed, that surrounded this main. She saw confidence in his lack of hesitance to grab a chair at the dining room table, so starved as he must have been, but there wasn't cockiness behind his manners. She nearly jumped in surprise, knocking over a vase in the tiny living room adjacent to the kitchen area, as he turned his head around to look at her and ask, "Is the food almost here?" And as he asked this, he hastily tied the one of their pretty, floral napkins reserved for special occasions around his neck like a bib, picking up a fork and knife in an eager display of his hunger.

"Now, Son, we've got to get you cleaned up before we eat," Jeff said in an overbearing tone, though there was a slight chuckle at the end of the sentence.

Emily looked quizzically at her husband, wondering why he was treating him like such a child as he calmly pulled the fork and knife out of the man's hands. However, her answer immediately came in the way the Son fellow's shoulders slumped at this demand and as he whined, "Clean up? But I'm so hungry!" And to emphasize this point, he patted a hand against his empty stomach. Certainly, he had just gone through a box of doughnuts in record timing, but that wasn't nearly enough to satisfy any Saiyan's hunger.

The woman's eyes widened slightly as she watched Jeff place a hand to the man's shoulder, the silverware now safely set on the table once more. "Clean up, Son, or we're not going to eat. And that, my friend, is a promise." This threat alone was enough to have the poor man in the armless, wooden chair gulp, his stomach growling at the perfect time. He gave a pathetic stare up at the police chieftain, but as he was with everybody, Pigero didn't budge. And so Goku finally was forced to give up, standing up rather reluctantly so that he was only a few inches taller than his authority.

As Goku released a disheartened sigh, Jeff patted him on his back and, in an attempt to cheer the man up, promised, "There'll be food on the table waiting for you as soon as you take a shower. Just follow me down this hall, and I'll show you the way right to our bathroom." Goku nodded obediantly as Jeff pushed him along, back into the corridor and into the corridor that led to two small bedrooms and the familial bathroom. As he disappeared into the first door on the left, Jeff craned his head back and asked loudly, "Emily, dear, do you mind picking out some clothes from my closet that he can wear?"

And she only nodded, watching disbelievingly as Jeff disappeared in the bathroom and the water started running. But she trusted he knew what he was doing, and after a few words muffled by the sound of the shower running, she saw him exit the bathroom and close the door. Upon closer observation, though, she noticed that he was approaching her with a few bundled, blue cloths in his hands.

"This is what he was wearing," he explained, holding up the tattered gi with bloodstains splattered across it. "I'm gonna dispose of it, but don't tell him. He doesn't want me to throw it away, for some reason, but it's filthy. He'll feel better in some cleaner clothes, anyways."

Emily trusted her husband knew exactly what he was doing and quickly agreed, "I won't tell him." She gave a quick, subservient nod to display her loyalty as her husband threw her a curious look. Then, after a brief pause, she asked, "Who is he, Jeff?"

Pigero glanced from his wife's concerned expression to the clothes in his hands, silent save for a small sigh that escaped his lips. Then, with a slight bristle of his brown moustache, he confessed, "I'm not sure, but I want to find out. He's an interesting fellow, and I figure that I'll give him a fair chance before carting him off to some mental asylum like the boys at the station want me to. He'll be doing some manual labor here for a little while to make up for his time in jail."

"But why are you giving him this chance?" Emily dared to venture, not willing to push past her husband's boundaries. He very seldomly snapped back at her when she irritated him, and she was far more likely to receive no answer whatsoever, usually as he thought over his own thought processes. But this time, though the answer came somewhat hesitantly, he obliged to her demand.

"Listen, Em," he said, their brown eyes locking as he used this rare nickname for her. "This fellow, this Son fellow - I feel like I've met him before. When... when I was an orphan, living back on Citrus Island, taking care of those younger boys with me, I suddenly abandoned them, right? Well, that was the day I met this little fellow named Gohan, if memory serves me right. I don't know why I suddenly decided to turn everybody over to the Home, but after seeing that little boy who still had his mother out there, I couldn't refuse everybody else that chance to feel that same love. And so I left them all, all of them, to get taken up by the Home. And I had no idea, no idea of where that Gohan character went, but there's this weird feeling I get that he has some relation to Son.

"When Son - his real name's Goku - started talking about his family, he mentioned that he had a son named Gohan. And I almost wonder if it's the same one. If all of Son's claims are true, then that would put his son at about the right age. That's what really pushed me to let him stay, to let him get cleaned up. If this Gohan kid is really his son, he made such an impact on my life that I can only hope to return the favor."

Pigero suddenly became aware that his wife had been resting her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. And with this bond, he felt the strength to continue, "Mango Island is all about hospitality, and I intend to give it to this man. I may be a police chief now, but I was an orphan only thirty years ago. I'll always keep an open heart when dealing with others that have open hearts, and I can promise you right now that the man in there has one of the openest hearts I've ever felt."

The couple listened to the running shower, bobbing their heads at the rhythm of the water. But in no time at all, Pigero had freed himself of his wife's grip and, raising the bundle in his hands, he said, "I'm going to go ahead and throw this away." He backed away, giving one last reassuring nod to this faithful wife.

Then the two departed, one heading towards the trashbin out back, the other heading to their bedroom to pick out suitable clothes for their guest.


	93. Tricked by the Weak

**I'm going to leave you all guessing as to whether Samuel Kahn is a good guy or a bad guy ultimately, seeing as I'm guessing myself. I have some ideas, but... I'll do more brainstorming.**

Chi-Chi stirred during the one time that Ninel had left the two of them, going to place her green case of syringes back in her room. It was a gentle motion as she laid in bed, only turning her head slightly towards her husband sitting up to her side, but it was a comforting motion all the same. Samuel glanced from his brother's diary scraps laying in his ancient hands towards her, and the moment her eyes pried open, his face was the first thing she saw.

"Chi-Chi..." he murmured, moving his shaky hand so that it rest on her forehead, wondering if she was sickly. She certainly didn't look well, as her cheeks seemed to have lost their vibrant pink and faded into a pallor condition. It didn't suit her well, as he had never seen her so lifeless. She was either happy enough to hum quietly to herself while washing dishes or furious enough to yell at a maid who didn't fold her laundry correctly, or she was even, on occasion, upset enough to let him take her in his thin arms. Each emotion came with a color to her gentle face, but now, she simply looked dead. But then he saw it as she locked eye contact with him, and that was a sorry glint to her black eyes. It was an apology of sorts.

The two waited in silence, him sitting up with his back propped up against a pillow, the letters scattered in his lap on top of his bed sheet, and her laying back and appreciating the subtle warmth his leathery palm brought to her face. It had taken half an hour for her to finally awaken, time in which Samuel had skimmed over some risque accounts of his brother's time in the army, most of which he regarded with a curious disapproval. But he turned his attention away from those to focus on his love, allowing his fears to dissipate. By looking at her pitiful expression, he could tell that she would never abandon him. He wasn't certain of where she had been all night, but she would never betray him.

Those thoughts of the fighter, however, were tormenting him. There was something off about the dazed look in Chi-Chi's eyes that glinted with something, something that he had seen oftentimes before, but only in his enemies. How could somebody so pure, so whole, have that look in their eye? He set his jaw in place, though he gave no other sign to his discontent.

They both flinched as a deep, northern accent exclaimed, "Look who awake!" Neither had noticed Ninel's entrance, and so Samuel looked up to watch the large figure in the doorway while Chi-Chi mustered the energy to roll over. It was miraculous that she had been able to notice that her master's wife had finally aroused from all the way across the room, but if Ninel was anything, at least she was observant.

"She's not feeling well," Samuel announced, allowing his sparse, white eyebrows to knit together with his worry for the woman. He finally moved his creased hand so that it trailed over her hair, which had almost completely fallen apart from its bun after the night's adventure. Chi-Chi's eyes flickered back to his looming face, her lips parting slightly as though about to say something. But Samuel didn't notice this as he kept his eyes on Ninel and demanded with a harsh protectiveness he hadn't voiced in years, "Just leave her here with me, Ninel, for right now. I've got a few things I need to talk to her about, but I'll call for you afterward."

The confusion on Ninel's face eased into anxiety as she regarded the couple for only a few seconds longer. Then, with her hand clenched on the doorknob, she gave a slight nod and said, "Yes, Mister Kahn." And before Samuel knew it, the door was shut.

They sat quietly, listening to a tree branch tap against the window with a slight breeze pushing it. Samuel released a deep sigh as he bit down on chapped lip with his surprisingly healthy teeth and wondered whether or not to bring up his troublesome questions right away. What was he supposed to ask her when she seemed so... pathetic? Not a hint of the usual vivid palette, not so much as a hint, remained on her face. He wanted to extract certain information, such as where she had been, who she had been shooting at, and why even Ninel had seemed so ghostly quiet when bringing her in, though he though it would be inappropriate at such a time. He would have to wait for her to at least rouse a little further before he would be able to get coherent sentences, as she hadn't said a word at all.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. Within a few minutes of his eyes glazing once again over the letters in his lap about a few intimate notes his brother had left on his superior's desk, he felt the head still resting underneath one of his palms budge. Chi-Chi stirred again, shifting her weight back so that she was looking towards him once more, the two catching eye contact. And to his surprise, she said with only a slight soreness to her throat, "I'm sorry, Samuel."

So there was an apology lingering in that look she had given him, but Samuel wasn't sure of what to make of it. He felt his own face flush as he ran his shaky hand over the top of her head, and the only thought that occurred to him was to comfort the poor woman. He automatically ignored her abrupt apology and instead said, "Listen, Chi-Chi, I have some good news for you." Chi-Chi's head lifted slightly, her dark eyes darting up almost warily with this sudden change in mood. But he allowed her appraising gaze to pass and continued, "A man proposed to sell me an island. Belonged to the army once, and more specifically, it belonged to my brother's troop."

Chi-Chi only nodded gently as she allowed her head to drop back on to the pillow, her chest heaving slightly as Samuel continued on and on about this one bit of island. He had never told her much about his brother, save for that he had once been in an army before being killed, but at this moment, she didn't really care. There were more pressing matters than that of a man that had been dead for decades, and that was a matter of a man that she hadn't laid her eyes on in almost a decade.

Until the night before, that was.

But she listened as his faithful wife, only hinting to her consciousness with a few sniffles. Samuel was oblivious to her halfheartedness in the matter, and within only a few minutes, he had lost himself in his own fantasies of a paradise to escape to. "Large palms and the water's as clear as day. The sand's soft, or so I've heard, and there are apparently little mice living on the island! But they're not the rodents we have here - no, they're large and brown, and they're just about the only think save for a few pests, though that could all be cleared out in a only days..."

Chi-Chi couldn't stop thinking of that last pitiful gaze Goku had given her. The pleading in his dark eyes had seared her, and now, it felt as though her heart bled for the man. But why should it? Her heart had bled with his absence, and just as she was getting settled back down, he found it appropriate to mess up her new life?

It wasn't fair, not at all. He needed to go, as she didn't want to be around him. After mistreating their poor son - no, her poor son - he shouldn't have stayed. And he hadn't. But there was something left that wasn't the satisfaction of having finally beaten the Saiyan down, of having finally come out triumphant.

So what was that feeling? Regret? Shame? Guilt? Yet why would she be the one to pass through emotional turmoil? She had been holding that role ever since she'd met him, with all of the times he'd simply left her without so much as a good-bye, even when they had been children! The thought would have made her angry had she not felt so ill, all of the happenings from the night before giving her an unrelenting head ache. And so she pulled herself out of these thoughts and focused once more on Samuel, who was still rambling, now so absorbed in his own fantasies that he had almost forgotten she was with him. Almost.

He had gone on about a small base that they could stay in with a few servants, but he stopped abruptly as he cleared his throat of mucus, suddenly hacking and reaching for his glass of water once more. The hand resting on the top of Chi-Chi's hand reflexively clenched, further rousing her from her daydreams, as he poured the water down his parched throat. But as quickly as her hair had been pulled, it had been released. With a few settling coughs and a muttered apology, he set the glass back down on the bedside table.

He shook his head and blinked slowly, trying to pull himself together again. But a sudden thought had occurred to him, and upon seeing Chi-Chi in a somewhat wakened state, he instantly asked, "Where were you?"

His words were kind, yet there was a sharpness that his voice always held when dealing with business matters. He had leapt so quickly from talks of the beach to this almost accusing question, and the startled Chi-Chi found her own throat sore at once. His mind was going, she could see. He had so quickly forgotten what he had been talking about that, though Chi-Chi knew he was close to senility, it was enough to catch her off-guard. How old was he? Only sixty, only a few years older than when they had even met. But what had happened?

As her thoughts switched quickly switched from her ex-husband to her current husband, worrying about him, Samuel's eyes drifted down to his lap. He noticed the letters written by his deceased brother and brought them closer to his eyes. He awaited Chi-Chi's reply to his very important question with patience, though after her not doing so much as uttering a sound in the next few minutes, he lowered the scribbled parchment and sighed.

"If you don't want to talk about this right now, we don't have to," he said, and he ran his bony fingers through her short hair once more. He would find out eventually, even if now was not the time. But for now, to surprise her once more, he exclaimed, "We're going to go visit this island, General Blue Camp, within the next week. I think it'll be a good buy - what do you think?"

She was too astounded, too shocked by all of these changes of subject. But Samuel liked it that way. She was hiding somebody, and he realized that tricking somebody into thinking that he was weaker than he actually was, such as making them believe he was going senile, was the best way to get information out of people. The weak were pitied. The weak were trusted. And even if she was his wife, these thoughts of her ex-husband were torturing him. At this moment, he wanted more than anything to confirm that this night away had nothing to do with the fighter.


	94. Getting Comfortable

**Enjoy!  
**

Goku found himself in a predicament, standing in that shower all by himself. He had never found this much water to be thrust in his face in an attempt to clean him, as he had never taken a shower before. No, it had always been baths, whether it be in a watering hole in Uub's village, a river by his Grandpa Gohan's cottage, or the large tub that Chi-Chi used to fill up every other night.

But a shower? This was a completely new challenge to be tackled, one that he had never imagine to be a challenge before.

Getting in had been a problem in itself, as the instant he stepped in, droplets of heat sprayed on to his bare skin, getting an involuntary, little yelp out of him. He had always been sensitive to temperature, and it wasn't always that he could just jump into the bathtub that Chi-Chi heated up so long ago. Sometimes even he, one of the last of the Saiyan race, had to ease his way in slowly, starting with his big toe. But that wasn't much of a choice in a shower, and so he forced his teeth to clench together and took the brave step in.

He let out a nervous giggle as the water bombarded him, wriggling with the pure displeasure of it all. Pigero had set it so that it was far too hot, having been distracted with the prospect of stealing his old gi and replacing it with something more suitable, and now Goku was suffering for that moment of carelessness. The urge to turn Super Saiyan struck him, but he quickly reasoned with his own small mind that, in a tiny house such as this, it probably wouldn't end well.

As he got caught up in his laughing fit, however, he lost his traction on the slippery floor of the shower, immediately slipping and falling backwards. He managed to catch himself by pressing himself against the side of the shower, but his feet still couldn't place themselves, and he slipped on his knees with an, "Ow," of surprise escaping his lips.

He released a sigh of slight frustration, all of the chuckles having been knocked out of him, as he stood up once more. He was determined to get through this for, after all, what kind of a man would Chi-Chi perceive him as if he couldn't even fight a shower? He was slowly but surely adjusting to the temperature of the water, and he reached cautiously for the soap bar sitting on the shower's ledge.

He would wrestle this shower if he had to in order to get through the next five minutes of rinsing himself.

* * *

Bulla's ponytail whipped behind her as she skirted the city's outskirts, taking her Capsule Corp. convertible off of the beaten path and off towards a place she was certain she would find answers, if not help. She kept her hands gripped inexpertly on the steering wheel, as she had only been driving for so long in her short life, and she only held a permit. But with the number of driving disasters she had heard about from her mother amongst all of the Z Warriors, she knew that if she added another one to the list, it certainly wouldn't stand out.

She huffed as she eyed the rear-view mirror, expecting a cop to appear out of nowhere and arrest her on the spot. She'd never been to jail before, and she certainly didn't like the sound of it. She imagined that being underage would have any cops tote her off to such a place where she would have to await her mother to pick her up. And her mother was the last person she wanted to face at the moment, as she was the person she had just escaped from only minutes before. If she returned now, she would have failed her mission to find out exactly who she was, and she would probably constantly be under her mother's wary eye.

What was a demi-Saiyan, after all? It seemed as though their abilities varied, as the others could all turn Super Saiyan, and yet she had never honed such an ability. She couldn't even fly, something that Yamcha, a weakling human, had always teased her about. She smirked at the thought, remembering how he had once delivered her to her room after a disastrous attempt to learn. Perhaps jumping out of one of the office balconies on the second floor of the Capsule Corp. building hadn't been the best way, though she was lucky to have had Yamcha fly in at the last second possible to catch her. But what would have happened if she had fallen? Would she have shattered, or would she have proven herself to really be part Saiyan?

After all, from all of the stories told to her, it seemed as though the others had fallen from heights far higher than the second story of one of the world's most iconic corporate office buildings. Whether in combat or just exploring, they seemed to have been flying higher than she could even imagine. But the key word there was flying, an ability which seemed to ever evade her. Perhaps falling wasn't so bad when you could control your ki.

She was forced to make this journey to Kami's Lookout in a vehicle due to her inability to control ki, though at least she was learning to sense it. She could feel strong energies in this direction, something that relieved her in some ways. Piccolo was strong, and she was determined to find him again. He had to have been hiding something, as he had tracked down whatever ki she emitted in that cafe the night before. He was definitely searching for a Saiyan, but just why? Were they really all returning, as she suspected Yamcha to fear?

She would give up everything she possessed, from the brand-name clothing to the books and tools, to meet her father. Or even her brother. Something was lacking in her life that Yamcha simply couldn't provide her, as good a step-father as he had proved to be over the years, and she had to find out exactly what it was.

Perhaps she just wanted somebody more like her. After all, she was half of a Saiyan being raised under the roof of two humans, and there may have been something she needed that only a Saiyan could provide. She was the only female with Saiyan blood, save for Pan, though she was only a quarter-Saiyan and not half as mature. She needed somebody to hear her out and understand just what was was going through, trying to find her identity.

Bulla loosened up slightly, daring to lean back in her chair as she gave one, last glance to the retreating city through the rear-view mirror. There were no cops coming as far as she could see. She certainly didn't enjoy the idea of being arrested, but there was a first time for everything. Everything except meeting those who were who supposed to be closest to her, though, she supposed bitterly.

* * *

With the wind beating his washed face, Gohan attempted to calm himself. This must have all been just some misunderstanding, he reasoned, though he couldn't rid himself of the lurking suspicion that Trunks had been the one to wish the moon back. There was just nobody else with any motive to, and if Trunks did have a tail he had successfully tucked away, he would have a completely new advantage to the other. Great Apes, after all, were infamous for multiplying power levels by ten, and Gohan knew that if Trunks was ten times stronger, he might actually have a chance at beating even Gohan's father, Goku.

He couldn't go to Kami's Lookout with a hot head. He would be unreasonable, then, and then the advantage of his logic would be lost in all of his rashness. He had already been humbled the night before, and that in itself had been difficult to cope with. As all Saiyans did, he valued his pride, and he wasn't eager to lose it again.

In an effort to cool down, he dipped down the skimmed the ocean's calm waves, allowing its salty spray to leap on his face. He closed his eyes and continued moving closer to his destination by relying only on sensing the ki on Kami's Lookout. It was the first time in a long while that he had taken this time to enjoy the ocean's misty breath, feeling the tiny ki of fish dancing about beneath its surface. He glided above the ocean without his shirt getting soaked, making the conscious effort to at least keep his clothes clean. He wanted to make a valid argument again Trunks, and the only way he knew to do that was to keep a solid appearance of a man who knew exactly what he had come to do, an approach that he always took with new students in his classes.

First impressions were always important, he mused, not even realizing that the tip of his tie was dragging along in the water. This was one of the reasons he had failed against his father the night before, having gone into the battle hotly and having thrown his pride on the line.

No, today, he was determined to throw Trunks' pride on the line instead, not realizing that he wouldn't be the first since the purple-haired demi-Saiyan's return.


End file.
